The Billy Incident
by CatHatGirl
Summary: Mandy has been wondering about her relationship with Billy, and a lack of answers to her questions is causing the tension to drive her nuts. And after a certain... incident at a sleepover, things start to get very awkward... BillyXMandy, Mandy's POV.
1. Sleepless

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy_. If I did, there would be an infinite amount of seasons, an infinite amount of DVDs, and it would never, ever, ever get canceled.

**Author's Note:** Yay! My third posted project is just beginning! Thanks to all the people who reviewed, and special thanks to my friends pockett-mowse, half-jack-O.o, and Silent-Memories123 for their love and support!

_Chapter One: Sleepless_

All right, so, here's me. Mandy. I'm lying here in my bed, and I can't get to sleep. I've been thinking about stuff-- too much stuff. I've been thinking it for a while, now, and I guess it's kind of getting to me.

Well... wait. I guess I should have started this story earlier, like when I first started thinking about the stuff, right? Yeah, I never was good at telling stories. Okay, forget about my bed. I'm at school, and Billy and I are getting in line for P.E. when Mindy says...

...No, wait. I was kind of thinking about it then, too, wasn't I? All right, so it's further back than that, but I don't really remember when. Anyway, one day or another, I just kind of started to think about... well... about Billy. Billy and I. I mean, not really about us personally, but more like... our relationship. Where we are now as friends, and where we'll eventually end up. Well, maybe it isn't all that, either. It's actually kind of more like... you know... if we'll ever be... well... well, _dating_, or something. Pretty dumb, right?

Now, don't start thinking I'm infatuated with him or anything, because that would be really stupid. I'm not. I'm not even slightly crushing on him. What it is at this point is mere curiosity. The idea of Billy as more than a friend has just recently occurred to me, and I can't help but kind of think what it would be like.

In fact, the idea doesn't even enter my mind that much until one day in P.E. class. Billy, Irwin and I are all lining up next to each other at the beginning of class, when Mindy comes up and starts looking at us and laughing. I hate it when she does that, because she'll be staring at me and giggling, and that whole time I'm standing there I'll just be wondering what the heck she thinks she's laughing about, and I'll get really ticked off. So I do get ticked off, and I ask her what the heck she thinks she's laughing about.

"Mandy," she says, still giggling. "I must say. You sure do have..._ interesting _taste in boys."

"What are you talking about?" I say.

"Well, I simply_ must say_." By the way, that's her new thing, saying "I must say" over and over. It makes her feel upscale. "_My_ boyfriend is a lot more handsome and smart than yours. He can do anything, I _must say_."

"Oh. Well, that's great for-- wait, did you just say...?"

"How do you even kiss him, huh? You must have to strap his big old nose to his forehead with duct tape just so you can reach!"

"Wait, you think... Billy is my...?"

She snickers again. "Don't even try to hide it, _lewwser_. You two always go, like, everywhere together. You're, like, joined at the hip, or whatever." She smiles. "And a little bird told me that you two sleep over at each other's houses_ all the time_."

She giggles as if that's supposed to mean something. I just sigh. Ever since we started junior high, Mindy's just gotten worse; her jeering has only heightened since that fateful day in sixth grade when we all went to health class and learned The Unspeakable Truth. Basically all she talks about now is who's doing what with whom, and where she thought she saw What's-Her-Face going with What's-His-Name, and how she's _sure_ she saw Alison and Jason behind the drugstore doing-- gasp--_ things_ (wink-wink-nudge-nudge-cough-cough). She's kept it up all the way into seventh grade, and it doesn't look like she'll stop anytime soon. Anyway, it's completely stupid.

Mindy doesn't seem to realize how dumb she looks as she's walking away laughing, but I feel a little strange. She thinks Billy is my... boyfriend? Usually I don't think anything of what Mindy says, but it's different with this. You know how if you've been thinking about something uncomfortable, then anyone bringing it up makes you nervous? Well, like I said, I've already let the notion cross my mind a couple times, and so Mindy's mentioning of it makes it resurface again, only more so. All of a sudden, what started as a perfectly normal day is filled with distracting thoughts and even a little nervousness. I mean, what makes her think we're a couple? Is it because I've been thinking about it that I'm acting this way? I thought we were just being normal friends! What if we've been being..._ too friendly_ this whole time and haven't known it? What if I _have_ started liking him that way, but just haven't noticed? Is that even possible?

So, take those questions multiplied by two and a half weeks and what do you get? You get me, lying awake in bed, wondering. And of course, I can't get to sleep.


	2. Crashing Down

**Disclaimer: **I do not own The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy.

**Author's Note:** The second chapter's finally up! Special thanks to all those who reviewed! You know, I was thinking... I used to hate this pairing, and now I'm writing my first romance for it. Weird...

_Chapter Two: Crashing Down_

I'm pacing through my living room, utterly frustrated. I've been trying to get Grim to do the laundry for the longest time, but he just keeps telling me he's busy. When I try to ask him what he's busy with, he just tells me it's a "special project". When I ask him what the project is, he just shakes his head and grins, telling me it's "classified", but if I really need to know I can look in the basement. Finally, I give up and look in the basement. When I open the door, the whole room is filled with a weird, blue light. Grim stands in the middle, tending to what appears to be a giant plant made entirely out of hair...

Suddenly, my forehead hits the cold window and I jerk my head up. Oh... that's right. I'm on the bus. It must have been a dream. I've pretty much been falling asleep on the school bus each day for the past several days now, due to my recent nightly insomnia. I check to see if Billy and Irwin are looking, then discreetly wipe the drool off my daily planner with the sleeve of my jacket. I'm awake, but only just, so I almost don't hear the sound of Billy's voice over my own sleepy thoughts.

"Hey, Mandy!" he says. I make a lazy attempt at a vocal response. I fail, and he starts poking me.

"Maaaaaaaaannnnndyyyyy._ Wake up_!"

This time I wake up for real, and I answer him with an irritable slap on the nose.

"Ow!" he says.

"What do you want?"

He rubs the red hand print on his face. "Mandy! You got's to get off the bus! We're at school, now, see? You can't stay here or the bus guy'll take you all the way to _Canada_! Then what'll I do??"

I sigh and stand up, beginning to regret that lie I told him about the bus driver abducting unwary students and taking them to his Canadian lair where he feasts on their bodily organs and leaves the unidentifiable remains for... well, you get the idea. Anyway, he's been pestering me about it all year.

School, let me say, is a huge hassle when your mind is stuck on track three. It seems like everything I try to focus on gets drowned out by "Billy! Billy! Relationship! Billy! What the heck is going on here?!", which I hate because I can't stand girls who only think about boys and relationships _all day_. And now I'm becoming one of them-- ugh! I sit at my desk, trying hopelessly to think about square roots. I succeed for precisely seventeen seconds. Then my eyes wander from my open textbook and my attention escapes my grasp once again, allowing itself to wander wherever it pleases. I'll bet you can guess where it chooses to go.

What's our relationship? Where are we going as friends? Do I like him that way? What am I supposed to do if I _do_ like him that way? My school day plays out to this same sound track for hours, as it has for the past several days, and finally I give in and let it blast at full volume.

I glance at Billy. Do I, in fact,... think he's cute? Honestly, I can't say. I've known him for a while, and so I've kind of gotten used to his face, but have I... grown _accustomed_ to it? If you like someone, do you automatically think they're attractive? There's definitely _something_ interesting about him, so... technically... I... ought to... Right? I put my head down on my desk tiredly. All this thinking is getting me nowhere; it's just hurting my sleepless brain.

I feel a sudden jabbing sensation at the back of my head. I look up slowly, groaning.

"What, Billy?" I say.

He continues poking my aching skull. "P.E. time, Mandy! P.E.! Come on!"

I get up, putting my books back in my bag and grumbling. Besides Pud'n, I'm the last one to leave the room.

I pull on my P.E. uniform. I get in line next to Billy and Irwin, as usual. We do our warm-ups, and I breathe a sigh of relief. P.E. is good. I don't have to think about two things at once. My mind is really tired, but the day is already half over. If I can make it through P.E., I think I can manage the rest of the day without incident.

We file into the East Gym, where Coach has us get into groups of three. Out of habit, Billy, Irwin and I stand together. We have the standard P.E. class, so every couple of weeks we learn the basics of a random sport, do a couple of clumsy demonstrations, and then switch to a new sport. This week, we've been dabbling in gymnastics. In the middle of the gym, Coach has set up an array of high bars and blue mats.

"Alright," says Coach. "Today, I want us all to get on these high bars and practice some basic techniques. I'm gonna show you some things, then spot you as you work."

One kid raises his hand. "My sister takes gymnastics, and she says only men are supposed to use the high bar."

"Yeah? Well, in this school, we believe a girl can do anything a guy can do."

"Yeah, but it's not--"

Coach eyes him. "What? Are you sexist, or something?"

"What? No! No. It's fine!"

"Good. I thought maybe you were being sexist for a minute. It's a good thing you weren't."

"Uh... yeah..." says the kid. "Good thing..."

"Good thing." says Coach flatly. "Were there any more comments you needed to make?"

The kid hesitates. "Why do we have to get into groups?"

Coach sighs. "Well, we don't have enough high bars, so you're all going to have to share."

"Isn't that dangerous?"

Coach shrugs. "Not particularly."

"But what if we weigh the bars down?"

"You won't if you're careful," Coach says. He looks the boy over. "...And skinny."

"Wait... What?"

Coach turns away abruptly and gestures to the bars. "Alright, people. Find a bar and watch me."

He shows us a few demonstrations, but I'm not completely paying attention. I'm sort of staring at Billy again... I know! I know, I'm not supposed to-- it gives me headaches. Still, I can't help but think: I've been dwelling on this to an unhealthy level for days, now. Maybe it's time I... sorted it all out with Billy. I know I'm not the type for discussions and stuff, but still. It's been days, _days_ since I've gotten any sleep.

"Hey, Irwin," I say.

"Yeah, Mandy?" he says, smiling.

"Go join another bar. You're no longer wanted here."

"What? Why, yo?!"

"Just go." I motion him away, and he reluctantly leaves to join Pud'n's bar, sighing sadly. Oh, well. He'll get over it.

Billy and I each grab hold of the bar and start a slow swinging exercise. At first he jut gabs about his own non sequitur thoughts, but after a while I interrupt.

"Billy," I say slowly. "I have something I... wanna... talk to you about."

"Oh, yeah? What is it, Mandy?" he says brightly.

"I... well, I...," I start to feel just a little awkward, "...I was just wondering... You know how we're... friends and stuff, right?"

"Yeah, Mandy?"

"Well... I was... I was... uh-h... y-y'know... uh..."

"Yeah, Mandy? What is it?"

"Do you... uh... think we'll ever... be, uh..." I swallow, "...more than friends?" Oh, man, I feel like one of those stupid bimbos who hang out at the mall talking to their boyfriends about _feelings_.

"More than friends?" he says.

"Uh... yeah..."

He ponders the question, then smiles slowly.

"Mandy," he grins, "We already are! 'Member?"

Well, this takes me by surprise. I stop swinging and just hang there, stupefied.

"...Wha... wh... wha...?" is all I can get out of my mouth. Did I... miss something?

"Yeah, we're _way_ more than friends. We have been for a while."

"For a... while?"

"Yeah! Of course we are, Mandy!"

I hesitate. "So... y... you think we're...? We're...?"

"We're _best-est, best-est_ friends!!" he says proudly. "The best in the whole, wide world!"

"...Oh." The realization sinks in, and I sigh, relieved. I should have known he didn't mean it like that.

"But... but, Billy."

"Yeah, Mandy?"

"I was... I was kind of really asking... Would you ever... kiss me, or anything?"

"I've kissed you before."

I shake my head. "No, but I mean a... a_ real_ kiss; a movie kiss... a..." Why can't I find the right words? " ...a special kiss. You know."

Billy smiles again. "All _my_ kisses are special. I give special kisses to you and my mommy and my daddy and Milkshakes and Aunt Sis..."

"That's not what I mean!" I say, frustrated. "What I'm trying to say is... are you ever gonna be my... my b... b..."

He slides his hand across the bar so it rests on mine. "Mandy," he says, "I'll always, always be your best friend." He squeezes my hand. "No matter what. 'Kay?"

I nod, sighing. As meaningful a conversation as I'm sure this is, he still hasn't answered my question, and I still haven't really managed to ask it.

I look over at him. He's still holding my hand. I start to feel nervous. He's held my hand before, but... what if it means something now? What if... he _does_ like me as more than just a best friend, but doesn't know how to say it? My palms start to sweat. Really sweat. Why am I so nervous?! It's probably no big deal! But what if...? What if...? Oh. Uh-oh. I'm slipping. My hands are slipping off the bar.

I tighten my grip, trying to hang on. "Billy!" I whisper. "Get your hand off mine!"

"Why?"

"Because it's... I'm... You're making me slip!"

"Making you what?"

"Slip!" I say. "I'm falling off the bar!"

"Oh, why didn'cha say so?" he says brightly. "I'll just hold you here. Then you can't fall off!"

I groan. The combined sweat of our hands-- my unusually sweaty one with his constantly sweaty one-- is overpowering. I feel us both start to lose our grip.

"Billy!"

"What?"

"Get your hand off--!" Suddenly our attached hands slip off altogether. Now, we're each hanging by one limb. We struggle, trying to get back to where we were.

"Don't worry, Mandy, I'll get you back up!"

To my dismay, Billy grabs my flailing wrist with his free hand and attempts to yank me back onto the bar.

"_Ow_! You're pulling my shoulder!"

"Hang on," he says, "I almost got's it!" He clumsily knocks my wrist against the bar. "Grab on, Mandy! Hurry!"

The bar starts to shake, and I get the sinking feeling that something conspicuously bad is about to happen. I try to free myself from his grasp, which only makes things worse in every way possible.

"Billy--stop!!" I say desperately. "The bar--the bar's gonna--!"

"Hold on, Mandy, I'm just trying to--!"

"I _know_, but--!"

I feel the bar start to tip.

"Billy!" I yell.

"What?"

"Whaddoyou _mean_ 'wha'-- _aaaggghh_!!"

We both start to scream as the bar tips over. Coach starts screaming. The people in front of us start screaming, too. I wonder why. I look up, just in time to see our high bar knock into the one in front of us. The people on it start to scream even louder as-- sure enough-- _their_ high bar bumps into the following high bar. Billy and I watch in a sort of muddled shock as high bar after high bar crashes to the floor in a sort of twisted domino effect. Finally, every last bar and student is lying on the floor in a messy, writhing pile. The students moan in pain, and Coach gives us a murderously angry glare.

We get on the bus. My school day is over, but far from incident-free. I groan as I flop down in our usual bus seat. Billy and Irwin flop down next to me.

"Well, _that_ was a heck of a day," I say.

"Yeah, well," says Billy, "We may've got's three hours of detention and a warning from the dean, but at least no one got hurt!"

"Almost no one," says Irwin.

"Yeah, but," says Billy, "least _we_ didn't get's hurt..."

"Yeah," says Irwin, "I guess so."

"But look at Mandy," Billy says. "She looks so unhappy!" He puts a hand on my shoulder sympathetically. "Why are you unhappy, Mandy?"

"Leave me alone," I grumble.

"Is it 'cause of today? Hmm? What can we do to make you cheer up?" He thinks, then brightens suddenly. "I know's!" He gives me a big, constricting hug, making me lose my breath. "Let's have a _sleep over_!!"

Oh, man. That's the last thing I need. I push him away.

"No. Absolutely not. I am _not_ staying at your house!"

He looks slightly taken aback. "What? But you stay at my house all the time."

I blink. Oh. That's right. We always do that. A sleep over. It's a perfectly normal thing to do between friends, and we're_ just friends_, anyway, so it's _fine_.

"...Okay, fine," I say. "I'll stay at your house tonight."

"_Yay_!" He gives me another death-hug, and my pulse increases slightly. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.


	3. We All Make Mistakes

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy._ If I did, you probably wouldn't like it anymore because it'd be packed with oodles of... gag...FEELINGS.

**Author's Note:** Yay, the third chapter's up! I've been so busy with school stuff that I've had no time to type anything. But now the school musical's over! And it rocked! And now I can type! Hooray! To answer you, MuchaLuchaAndMe, it's not gonna turn out nasty. I respect my K+ rating. I can see why you thought it might, though, what with the "sleep over" business. Heh...

_CHAPTER THREE: WE ALL MAKE MISTAKES_

A sleep over.

So, what?

Right?

It's not like it means anything, after all. We're just friends. We _are._ There is absolutely _no problem_ with two friends sleeping over at each other's houses.

...But what if he... what if I... what if something...

No! Nothing, nothing, _nothing_ is wrong with a sleep over. I repeat-- _nothing_!

Oh, man. I keep thinking something's gonna happen. _Why_ do I keep thinking something's gonna happen? I mean, just because he's a boy and I'm a girl doesn't mean... things are going to get carried away.

...Or will they...?

Aggh! No! No they won't! Jeez, sometimes I wish there were no boys in the world. Or girls, for that matter. No genders at all. Then nobody would fall in love with anybody, and the human race would die out, and nobody would even have this problem.

Maybe I should just cancel our plans...? But... no. Then I'd just be a coward, and a coward over nothing, at that. No, I have to go. I have my pride, after all, and never in my life have I ever backed down from anything just because of some stupid boy...

I lie on my couch, contemplating this. Once again, I'm attempting to sort things out, to come up with an answer. Finally, I come up with this straightforward battle plan:

Go to sleep over.

Sort things out _once and for all_.

Go to sleep.

Wake up.

Go home.

This plan sounds pretty stable, and so by the time I start packing my toothbrush and clothes and all that stuff, I'm feeling just a little bit better. A little.

Eventually, it's time to go to Billy's house. I can see his house from my bedroom window, but the walk down the street feels like an eternity. With every step, I repeat my plan under my breath.

"Get in, get answers, get out," I say. "Get in, get answers, get out. Get in, get..."

I ring the doorbell. Any consolation I felt after I first made my plan is now dead and gone. I'm nervous again. My pillowcase full of stuff is slipping slowly from my once again sweaty fingers, and I have to work to keep it in my hands.

I hear the clumsy thumping of Billy's feet running on carpet. The door pops open, and Billy nearly jumps out at me like a jack-in-the-box.

"Hi, Man-day!" He screams into my face. I pick up traces of recently-consumed sugar on his breath. Great. Now he'll be keeping me up all night with thirty-seven cupcakes' worth of extra energy. Not like I'll be sleeping, anyway...

He grabs hold of my arm and drags me into the living room. He jumps on the couch and starts bouncing on it.

"So, whaddoya wanna do first, huh?" he says. "Play video games? Eat snacks? Play a board game? Eat dinner? Play pretend? Eat candy? Play? Eat? Play? Eat? Play!?"

I pause. "Well, I... Actually, there's something I think we should talk about."

He tilts his head, like a puppy attempting to listen. "Mandy... Billy... _talk..._?" he says slowly.

"Um, yeah. Remember earlier at school when I was asking you about--"

A slow grin appears on his face.

"Talk... talk about... _Alien Race Car Mania Four!!_"

I brace myself as an onslaught of sugar-induced, mindless words hits my ears at full force. Ahh, American junk food manufacturers. Thank you. Thank you _so_ much.

One thing you should know about Billy: once you get him started talking, he just doesn't know how to stop. He continues the endless, trackless, driver-less train of thought all the way through dinner. When I try to interrupt, he just kind of stares at me, then keeps going. By the time we make it to dessert, I stop trying to get a word in edgewise and just try to tune him out until he runs down.

By ten forty-five, while we're playing Alien Race Car Mania Three in the living room, I start to notice that the sugar is wearing off a little. I wait a little longer. Eventually, he yawns, a definite sign of my slim window of opportunity between Hyper Billy and Sugar-Crash Billy. I pause the game.

"Whatcha doin', Mandy?" he says. "You got's ta go make poop?"

I look at him. "Uh... _no_. There's something I want to talk about. Sit on the couch, Billy."

He comes and sits next to me on the couch. He looks at me expectantly, like a dog waiting for a game of fetch. I stare at his waiting eyes, starting to feel all night's butterflies double in my stomach and overflow into my right lung.

"What is it?" he says.

I search for words, realizing that in the last thirty seconds I've forgotten how to begin a sentence.

"I... I... wanted to say...," I fumble. "Well, I wanted to ask, really..."

"Yeah?"

"Um, you know that time in P.E... earlier... when I asked you--"

"And the whole thing came crashing down?!" he says excitedly. "That was fun, huh, Mandy?"

"Uh, yeah, well, I'm talking about when I was asking you... if you and I would ever be more than friends--"

"Like bestest, bestest friends?"

"Well, not exactly," I say. "More than bestest, bestest friends."

He scratches his head. "Like a brother and sister?"

"Um, no. I mean, if you and I'll ever, uh...," I can't get the words out. This is too weird. I try again. "If you and I will ever... _hey_!"

Billy is getting up and unpausing the video game!

"What?! Billy! I was _talking_ to you!"

He turns around and looks at me. "What's that, Mandy?"

"I said I... turn the game off!"

He obliges and comes back to the couch.

"Whad'ja wanna talk about, Mandy?"

I groan. "The same exact thing I was talking to you about _two seconds ago_!!"

He thinks a minute. "Oh, yeah. That thing. Okay, keep going."

I sigh and swallow a knot of tangled nerves that seems to keep getting caught in my throat.

"All right, uh," I say. "Well, uh, here's the thing-- _Billy_!"

He's started humming a song. I slide my hand down my face as he moves his head to the beat of his favorite cartoon theme song.

"Billy. _Billy_!" I yell.

He pauses. "Yeah, Mandy? What do you need?"

"I _need_ for you to _listen_!!" I say angrily.

"Okay, Mandy. I'm listening."

I look at him. "Are you listening for _real_?" I say slowly and carefully.

He nods. "Yup! I'm all ears, Man-day!"

I sigh. "Okay, well, I... don't call me that. I just wanted to ask you about our... our relationship now, and where it'll be in the future--"

"The future??" A wide grin covers his face, and I realize I've made a mistake. "The future! You know what I think's gonna be in the future, Mandy?? I think there's gonna be flying cars, and robot people, and, and, and, _cats_ and _dogs_ who are robots,

and the robots are _friendly_ robots who make cupcakes, and, and, and, but there's one _evil _robot named _Jeb-uh-die-yah_! And Jebediah doesn't _like_ cupcakes so he sends a _whole evil army_ of flying... uh, uh, uh, _cows_ to go fight the good people of the land of _Coona-Boona_! And the people of Coona-Boona get's out their machine guns, and..."

He goes on and on. I can't take it anymore. My bodily organs feel like they're going to explode with nerves. What if I never get my questions answered? What if I'm forced to live like this forever? _Forever?! _I stare at Billy. I stare at him for what seems like hours, my hands trembling madly. I want this to end. I just need the suspense to end! Something... anything...

I snap.

The next several moments are a blur, coming to my senses in a series of flashing images. Myself, launching forward toward an unsuspecting Billy. His eyes, wide and shocked and confused. His mouth, warm and soft under mine. I feel a great blast of instinctive excitement, then a sour sort of feeling as he continues not to kiss back. My impulsive attempt at passion slows, then grinds to a halt, until I'm just sitting there with my lips resting awkwardly and motionlessly on his. The moment begins to grow unpleasantly stale.

I pull my face away from his, and open my eyes. He kind of stares at me. Then he kind of stares at the floor. Then he kind of stares at nothing, and I start trying to guess how many minutes have gone by since either of us said anything. We sit there as the realization of what just happened begins to settle in the air around us like murk in a puddle. I feel weird.

He shifts in his seat and I'm counting seconds, now. Do something. Somebody do something. Please? Twenty seconds, thirty seconds, thirty-five... When I get to one hundred and four, he finally looks at me again.

"Mandy...?" he says slowly.

"Yeah?"

"You just... we just..."

I swallow. "Yeah?"

I can't tell if he's happy about it, or if he's angry of sickened or just stunned. What is his problem? Respond, you idiot! Say something about it! Who does he think he is to not say anything after I just... he just... Oh, man, did we really just...?

A sinking sort of realization comes over me as I wait for one of us to continue his sentence. _Oh. That's right. We_ are_ just friends. Maybe there _was _no need for that. Of _course _there wasn't. We_ don't _have that kind of relationship. Oh, yeah. Oh, for the love of..._

"Mandy."

"_What_?!" This time I'm not expecting his voice and I jump. "I mean..." I clear my throat and try to regain composure, "...what?"

Billy looks at me, his eyes wide and purposeful. He doesn't blink, so neither do I. He... he looks so intent... but what does he intend on doing? Is he going to kiss back? Say something? What could he possibly say? I can't take it. This is driving me nuts.

"Billy, whatever you have to say, just say it!"

"Mandy... I..."

"_What is it_?!"

"Mandy, I...," he says, "I have hair disease."

I freeze. I swear on my life that I can feel my left eyelid start to twitch. Just a little.

"...What?"

"Yeah," he says. "My whole family has it. Dad, Milkshakes, Mr. Snuggles... even my mom! We all got's hair disease!"

"What the...?"

"And bone disease, Mandy. Bone disease and finger disease and... and... eyeball disease!"

"What are you talking about?" I say.

"Foot disease, Mandy! Foot disease and toe disease!"

"Shut up, Billy!" I snap. He shuts up. "Those aren't even real diseases, and I'm not in the mood to play any dumb games!"

"...Oh," he says. "Well, um..."

He stands up. He goes and picks up my pillow, then holds it out at me like an empty tray. "Maybe you should go home," he says, "Just in case you catch something."

I start to see what he's getting at. And it seems like maybe... now isn't the best time to argue. I nod silently, and take the pillow from him.

* * *

Have you ever dragged a pillowcase full of wrinkled clothes and hygiene products across the street at eleven o'clock at night? Well, guess what?

I start to grumble as I kick bits of broken glass out of my way. I feel like a homeless person. As humiliating and utterly inconvenient as this is, though, something else is bothering me. You see, Billy is nice. Billy is friendly. Billy is sociable and kind and caring. People like Billy don't lie to your face just to get you out of their house. Why does this bother me? I'm not exactly sure. All I know is that I'm out here at eleven o'-_stupid_-clock at night, dragging half of the _stupid_ world in a sack across a _stupid_ asphalt _stupid_ road in a _stupid_, freezing nightgown and jacket, and all at eleven o'clock at _stupid... night_! Needless to say, I am ticked off.

I manage to plop my lumpy, dirt-stained pillowcase down next to my door. I reach into my jacket pocket for the keys, and then reach into my other jacket pocket for my keys, and then I open the pillowcase and check for my keys there, and then groan in utter aggravation as I realize that I must have left them--_ of course_-- at Billy's house. Irritably, I leave my pillowcase waiting at the front door of my own house and go trudging back towards his.

I try the doorknob. It's locked. I sigh-- figures. I knock on the door softly.

"Billy-- hey, Billy!" I hiss loudly. "I forgot my keys! Billy?"

There's no answer.

"Billy?" I call, a little louder. "Hey!"

I look in the window. He can't be asleep already... I only just left. Unless... Wait a minute! The little jerk locked me out on purpose!

"_Billy_!" I yell. Forget the neighbors. They can wake the heck up if they want. "Billy! _Let me back in! I forgot my-- Billy_?! I know you're in here!" I hear some scuffing around inside, but no answer. Man, I do_ not _have time for this!

I give up on the front door and go around to the back. His gate swings open easily, but the back door is locked as well. Rats! I'll have to try a window...

_...Wait_, says the sensible part of my mind. _We learned about this in school. There's a name for it. It's called "breaking and entering"..._

I tell the sensible part of my mind to shut up and go suck a lemon because _I... am... angry._ It obeys. After about three tries, I find the kitchen window unlocked. I slide the glass up and open the screen._ Now, where did I leave my keys?_

As I'm climbing down from the sill, my foot slips on something._ Well, this can't be good_, I think as I begin to lose my balance. I try to steady myself, but there's not a lot I can grab on to. I can't help but let out a screech as my head plummets to the tiled floor.

When I open my eyes, everything is swaying and weird and... upside-down. I feel a strange tugging at the back of my skirt. I look around, and then up. To my shock and horror, I find myself hanging by the hem of my nightgown from a catch on Billy's kitchen window. This most definitely is _not_ my day.

"_Billy_!" I yell again, more frantically. "_Billy!! Get over here! Billy!!_"

I hear the frantic opening and closing of doors, and the simultaneous stomping of feet on stairs. First, Billy appears. He is followed seconds later by his sleepy-eyed parents.

"Where are the burglars, honey?" says Gladys worriedly.

"I dunno, but I'm gonna get 'em!"

"Mandy...!" Billy says. "What happened to you...?"

"_I forgot my keys!!_" I yell, my hair swinging inches from Billy's linoleum kitchen floor.

"Oh." He begins to trot out of the room.

"Where are you going?" I say.

"To get your keys!"

"_Get me down and I'll get my own keys!!_"

"Oh... Right."

"I thought you were staying here for the night, Mandy," Gladys says, as Billy attempts to pull my skirt free from the window. "What made you decide to leave?"

"Uh... well..." My face starts to heat up, and it's not just from the blood rushing to my upside-down cranium. "We kind of... decided... uh..."

Billy looks up. "Me and Mandy--"

I elbow him in the knee, which causes him to fall on his butt. "_Not a single one!!_" I say quickly. I realize that that last statement made absolutely no sense, so I add, "We... we just thought it'd be best if I went home, is all."

Gladys looks mildly surprised. "Oh. Okay, well, if you really want to go home... I suppose..."

"Okay, then," I say. "So, I'll be taking my keys, then."

Once free, I go and retrieve the keys, straighten my jacket, and head out the door. Billy catches me on my way out.

"Hey, Mandy... About that ki--"

"Shh!" I hiss. "Don't... tell... _anyone!_"

"But--"

"No!"

"But--" he looks over at his parents.

"No! Especially no! You tell nobody! Understood?!"

Billy nods slowly. "Okay, Mandy. Nobody. Not a single one."

"Yes. Exactly. I--" I look at him. "Shut up, Billy."

I leave before he can ask me what for.

**Author's Note:** Well, that's the end of chapter three. Don't forget to comment! Your feedback is much appreciated!


	4. No Hard Feelings, Right?

**Disclaimer:** Trust me. _The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy_ is not mine. I mean, if it was, why would I be writing fanfiction for it? Think about it rationally, now...

**Author's Note:** Thanks for all your comments! I'm seriously loving writing this thing, and I'm glad that you enjoy reading it. Oh, and by the way, I'm thinking of changing my pen name, so don't be shocked and alarmed if you're looking at the story and it's suddenly written by someone else.

_CHAPTER FOUR: NO HARD FEELINGS, RIGHT?_

I wake up the next morning wondering why I'm in my own bed. Then I remember, and for a moment I feel like throwing up in my mouth. After that wears off, I feel like hitting something. I don't know why, I just do. I really don't feel like looking at Billy today, especially not first thing at the bus stop. I decide to have Grim take me to school today.

When I get to class, I'm relieved to see that Billy isn't here yet. I take the extra time before he arrives to prepare myself for his face. His face... The face I kissed yesterday--

Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up! I have to stop thinking about it! Last night's stupid... happenings have been messing up my thought process completely. And you can just bet I didn't get any sleep last night. In fact, I think I can pretty much just forget about sleeping for the rest of my life.

I take some time to finish up the warm-up exercise on the board, then look around. Billy still isn't here. Now I kind of wish he _would_ hurry up and get here; the wait is very suspenseful.

I notice Irwin walking up to the teacher's desk. "I'm here to get the homework, yo," he says. The teacher nods and starts looking through her desk for some papers. Huh. That's weird. Irwin wasn't absent all year-- I should know with his constant pestering me. Why would he be collecting missed homework?

"Thanks," he says, taking some papers from her hand. "Billy's sick with nose disease, so I just thought I'd pick up his homework for him, yo." The teacher looks suspicious, but sends him to his seat.

I look at Billy's empty chair. Nose disease, huh? The little freak must be playing hooky because of last night. What a coward. I hope he really _does_ get nose disease. Oh, well. At least I can concentrate today without worrying about seeing him.

This goes on for the next couple of days; I get to school, Billy fails to arrive, and Irwin goes around the school getting his homework for him. Then, finally, Billy shows up. I'm a little relieved on behalf of his mother, because I had been starting to wonder how much longer she was going to buy that "nose disease" ploy.

He arrives late, but there nonetheless. As I thought, he doesn't appear to be getting over a three-day nose cold. He is, however, behaving awfully strangely for himself. His eyes are restless and shifty, and he moves as if something were to jump out at him at any moment. He gets to his seat, then looks at me to see if I'm watching him. The nerve! Why would I be watching him?! Does he think I'm some sort of obsessed stalker, or something? I keep watching him anyway, out of spite.

Look at that stupid face of his. Something just makes me want to hit him. I bet he just thinks he's _so_ great just 'cause he got a girl to kiss him, right? Well, he's wrong. Big time wrong. Because this is one girl who isn't gonna give him the satisfaction of masculine triumph. Next time he even _looks_ at me funny, I'm gonna give him what-for!

But he doesn't look at me funny. He doesn't look at me at all. In fact, for the rest of the day, I get the impression that Billy is avoiding me. So he's ignoring me on _purpose_, now? What a little jerk! I'll _force_ him to confront me, just for being such a self-important little coward!

On the way to lunch, I catch Billy making his way through the crowds as stealthily as he can; at least, as stealthily as a clumsy oaf like him is expected to be. I push past several unsuspecting students and step in front of him. A few bystanders stop chatting to look at us.

"Oh! ...Mandy... I, uh..." he says, eyes moving quickly from side to side.

"Listen, Billy," I say, prodding him in the chest with my finger. "Do you have some sort of problem with me? 'Cause if you do, I want you to hurry up and spit it out."

"Uh... no, I don't have _any_ problem, Mandy! ...But... uh... I should, uh, go to lunch, now..."

"You just think you're _so_ clever, don't you?" I say. "You just about think you can get away with anything, huh? Well, lemme tell you, Billy! You're wrong. And if you or any of your randomly-infected body parts disagree, you can jut go rot somewhere. Got that?"

He looks at the ground. "Uhh, yeah, whatever, Mandy, bye," he says quickly. Then he darts around me, and before I have time to turn around, he's lost in the crowd.

When I get to the lunchroom, Billy isn't at our usual table. He must have gone to eat outside, or something. I sit in my usual spot, and Irwin appears a few moments later.

"Would you mind leaving me alone, Irwin?" I say, already annoyed. "I don't feel like dealing with any extra idiot today."

Irwin sits down next to me, ignoring my comment on his intellect. "Mandy," he says. "Everybody's wondering what's been going on with you and Billy today. All day you two've been acting really weird, yo! Did you have a fight, or something?"

I peer over Irwin's shoulder at the cafeteria door Billy must have taken to get out. "There was kind of a... misunderstanding...," I say slowly.

"I've never even _seen_ Billy like this, yo," Irwin says. "He's all jumpy, and he's barely talking to anybody!"

"Is that so?"

"Yeah! Everybody's saying that either he did something really stupid, or you did something really mean."

I pause, saying nothing, then continue to eat my lunch. He keeps staring at me expectantly.

"What?" I say, my sandwich halfway to my mouth.

"Well, what _happened_, yo?!"

I put my food down on the tray. "I don't see why it should be up for discussion."

"Oh, come on, yo! The whole school's discussing it! I just wanna know what really happened!"

"Well, tough luck." I take a sip of my juice.

"Aww, please?"

"No."

"_Please?_"

"Go away, Irwin."

"Aww, man! Billy won't talk either, yo! Every time I ask him about it, he just says that he'd better not open his mouth or Mandy might get in his face."

I look at him. "He, uh, he really words it that way?"

"And then he just goes away! What's with you two, yo?! You _gotta_ tell me!"

I pick up my tray. "I'm out of here."

"Aw, Mandy, where are you going?"

I stand up from the table and grab my things. "To another table. I'm tired of hearing your stupid questions."

"But Mandy, I--"

"Shut up, Irwin."

He follows me around the cafeteria. "I just wanna talk, yo!"

"No."

"You never talk to me about _anything!_"

"Too bad for you."

"Mandy! I'm your friend, too, y'know! You never include me in stuff! I always get left out of the conversation!"

Oh, great. Leave it to Irwin to make everything personal.

"We don't communicate, Mandy! Why won't you ever talk to me, yo?!"

"Shut up."

He stops. "Even after we kissed, you wouldn't talk to me about it...," he says under his breath.

I freeze momentarily, then grab his wrist and dash out of the cafeteria. I wait until we're outside the bathroom doors, then turn to him.

"I already told you, Irwin. We never, ever mention that! Remember?"

"But--"

"_Re-mem-ber?_" I say slowly through my teeth.

He nods. "Yeah, I remember, but... _come on!!_ It's been two years! I just want one of us to_ say_ something about--"

"Yes!" I say. "Exactly. Two years! If we're careful, no one ever finds out, and we go on living as if it never happened!"

"But I don't want it to have never--"

"Trust me, Irwin. It's better that way."

"Bu--"

"_Much_ better."

He sighs. "Okay. Fine."

We go back to the cafeteria and sit down.

* * *

Later that evening, I'm lying around in my room, kind of bored. My cellphone rings and I pick it up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Mandy." It's Billy's voice on the other end.

"Yeah, what? I'm really busy."

"Oh, sorry, Mandy... I just... uh..."

"What?"

"I'm sorry I kicked you out of the house. After the sleep over, I mean."

I pause. "Yeah?"

"Um, yeah," he says. "Uh, you know, about the, umm, the kiss..."

"Actually," I say, "yeah. About that. Um, you're still keeping it secret, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I think it's best if we didn't talk about it alone, either. Like, not even between us."

"Why?" he says.

"Uh...," I think for a moment. "Look, Billy... Are... are you glad that it happened?"

"Uh, I..."

"Are you happy right now... because of it?"

"Um, not really."

"If it hadn't happened, do you think you'd be happier right now?"

"Um, maybe..."

"Okay," I say. "Right. So, maybe we should just... pretend like it never happened."

He hesitates. "I guess."

"Good. So, is there anything else you called about?"

"Uhh... no," he says. "Bye, Mandy."

"Goodbye, Billy."

I hang up, then check the time. It's about nine o'clock, so I put on my pajamas. I'm relieved that the incident is taken care of, but I still feel kind of weird about it. Oh, well. Maybe that'll wear off soon.

**Author's Note:** May I receive no complaints about the Mandy-kissing-Irwin thing. I'm basing this event off an actual episode where Mandy has an identity crisis and kisses Irwin (_Heartburn_ if you don't know it), so don't try to tell me it's out of character, because it actually happens in the show.


	5. Communication

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy_. If I did, you wouldn't like it anymore, because it would be packed with oodles of (gag) _feelings_.

**Author's Note:** Thanks once again to all my readers! Comments are still much appreciated, so thanks to all those who commented so far! Enjoy the story!

_CHAPTER FIVE: COMMUNICATION_

"Attention classes attention classes." Dean Thumann's monotone voice addresses us over the intercom. I don't know why they picked the dean with the lousiest speaking voice to do the announcements. His voice is so toneless and uncaring that everything he says sounds like one long, lazy, unpunctuated sentence. "This hour there is a guest speaker will the teachers assemble all the students and bring them to the auditorium the speaker Ms. Ottison is her name will be speaking on communication among peers I repeat will everyone assemble in the auditorium please bring your things you will be there for the whole period I repeat bring your things thank you."

As we exit the classroom, Billy bumps into me. We look at each other for a split second, but say nothing. Things have been kind of... quiet between us since that last phone call. I think we both know the reason why, although neither of us have addressed it. Ever since we agreed not to talk about the... the... the you-know-what, it's been on the tips of both of our tongues. It seems like every time I try to talk to Billy, something almost slips out. Since the same seems to go for him, we've just kind of been avoiding the exchange of words for a while.

Billy and I aren't the only ones acting strange. Irwin has been giving me weird looks all the time lately. Not stalker-weird, just weird for him. Every time he talks to me, he seems to almost bring something up, then close his mouth and change the subject. I can tell he's doing it on purpose, and I know exactly what it's about. And I refuse to acknowledge it.

When we get to the auditorium, there's a woman on the stage. She has a big smile on her face, and her clothes are loose and flowing and very colorful-- the type of outfit a librarian would wear to somehow prove through her appearance that she's open-minded and full of ideas and so much more than just the woman you see behind the desk when you check out your books. She looks at us for a moment as we finish quieting down, then speaks.

"Hello, radiant young brains," she says, adjusting the multicolored scarf that covers most of her hair. Never in my life have I been called a "radiant brain", and I hope that I will never be called such again. I sigh. This is going to be a long fifty minutes. The guest speaker continues.

"I am Patricia Ottison, your mentor for the hour, and I hope to the very last pumping vein in my heart that the verbal adventure on which I take you will bring you nothing but pleasantries. Now, I am here to talk to you about a little friend of mine named Communication. Communication is a nice little fellow who's here to help you and your friends get to know each other better. But Communication is very shy, you see, and he doesn't come to people right away, because he is too afraid to introduce himself. In fact, when they first let me out of the South Dakota Psychiatric Ward..."

"Oh, for crying out loud," I murmur.

"...Communication didn't even know _me._ So the thing was, I had to learn to introduce Communication to myself. Today, I am going to help you introduce Communication to yourselves."

She goes on for a while, talking to us about communication, and about how the word "communication" is in fact an acronym for "Contribution Of Multiple Minds Until New Ideas Come About To Offer Niceness", a sentence which half of us don't even understand (when someone tries to point out that she forgot the second "I", she just giggles creepily and moves on). Then, she proceeds with something that many guest speakers do, and that most of us were hoping wouldn't happen.

"All right," she says. "I am going to choose several people out of the audience to come and join me on stage." She squints her eyes. "You there in the red hat, you with the orange bow tie, you with the pink shirt, and you with the green T-shirt. Please come up on stage with me."

There is a hesitant silence, and then Billy, Irwin, some other kid, and I all slowly stand up. This had to happen. _Of course_ this had to happen. We get up on the stage, and stand awkwardly and stiffly in a line next to her.

She smiles. "You four children are about to take part in an improvisational sketch. Could you please tell me your names?"

"I'm Billy."

"Irwin."

"Mandy."

"I'm Paul."

I look over at Billy. This seems to be the kind of thing he would love, but he's just standing there awkwardly like the rest of us. I guess the events of the last several days have been taking their toll on him, just as the have me.

Ms. Ottison clasps her hands together and grins. "Now that we are all set, I would like for us to begin. I want you all to pretend to be four friends. Okay? Good. Now, you friends have a problem."

"Is it that we don't have good enough communication?" I offer.

"And the problem is that you don't have good enough communication," says Ms. Ottison brightly.

"Ah. I see."

"All right. So, Mandy. I want you and Paul to be two friends who have a secret, and Billy and Irwin are the other two friends. They are left out. Can you do that? Good. Please begin."

We stand there silently for a few seconds, not quite sure what to do. Then Paul says, "We, uh, sure do have a great secret, huh, Mandy?"

"Uh," I say, my arms folded, "I guess."

"Yeah, it's a good thing Billy and Irving don't know about it."

"Uh, yeah. Good thing."

Irwin joins in. "What's this I hear about a secret, Mandy and Paul?"

"Nothing," says Paul, staring straight at the audience.

"Oh, really?" says Irwin. "Are you_ sure_ it isn't something? 'Cause you sure were _acting_ like it was something."

"Umm, okay, I admit it," says Paul. "We have a secret."

Ms. Ottison claps her hands. "See? Paul just did something right: he addressed the secret. Good job, Paul!"

Irwin ignores her. "How long have you been keeping this secret?" he says.

"Uh...," Paul shrugs. "Three... three... months?"

"Really? That's an awful long time to be pretending something is nothing, isn't it, Paul and _Mandy?_"

"Uh, I guess," says Paul.

"Really?" says Irwin again. "Because I always thought that if something was something, you were just supposed to _call_ it something and not just pretend that it was nothing. What do you think, _Mandy?_"

"Um," I say, "I don't really..."

"Because if you and Paul did something together that maybe you're ashamed of, I think you should just come right out and say it. In fact, I don't think it's very fair to Paul if you just decide to act like it never happened. How about you, _Mandy?_"

"I don't know what you're _talking_ about, Irwin," I say slowly, "but if I did, I would say that you probably shouldn't be talking about it right now!"

"Oh, yeah? Well, maybe I've been waiting to talk about it for _two years_, but I haven't gotten the opportunity!"

"Maybe you should stop waiting and just agree that it'll never happen!"

Irwin turns to Billy. "What do you think, Billy? If two people have a secret, don't you think they should hurry up and talk about it?"

Billy looks around. "Umm, well...I..."

"How should _he_ know?!" I say quickly. "It's not like _he_ has any secrets! Isn't that right, Billy?"

"Umm... uh, yeah!" he says nervously. "No secrets! Not even any about Mandy, or anything! I mean, it's not like we did something weird together, or anything like that! 'Cause if we did, then we'd have a secret! But we didn't, so we don't!! Heh heh... Nope, not me! No secrets here!!"

"Are you _sure_ you don't wanna talk about it, Mandy?" says Irwin. "What if it's something really _important?_ Like maybe somebody _kissed somebody, yo??_"

Billy looks suddenly alarmed. "Irwin?! How did _you_ know about it?!"

"What? What are you talking about, Billy?" Irwin says.

I hear the confused murmurs from the audience get increasingly louder. Paul looks at me. "Umm... what's going on?"

"Uh, maybe you should both _shut up!!_" I say. I look out at the crowd. "The sketch is over! Understand?!" I grab both Billy and Irwin by the hands and march off, leaving a dumbfounded and utterly confused Paul to stand motionless on stage. Ms. Ottison turns to him, still smiling, and says, "Now wasn't that nice, Paul? Good. And would you please tell me what important life lessons you learned from that sketch?"

I sit the three of us back down as Paul attempts to draw a tangible conclusion from the mess he just witnessed. I turn to Billy and Irwin. "You two keep quiet-- you hear me? _Quiet_," I hiss, "until lunch. Got that?!"

They nod silently.

"Good!" I say. "Now, listen to the stupid presentation!"

We sit and watch as Ms. Ottison proceeds to lecture us on "Communication in your family".

**Author's Note:** Just so you know, I have nothing against guest speakers or enthusiastic librarians... but I have a feeling Mandy might. Comments and con/crit welcome!


	6. If You Put It Metaphorically

**Disclaimer:** _The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy_ is not mine. It never will be mine. It never was mine. I... I'm just borrowing it, that's all. Honest! ...Hey, shut up! I can put it down whenever I want! ...I ...just don't want to right now.

**Author's Note:** Thanks for reviewing on all the chapters so far! Here comes chapter six, everybody!

* * *

_CHAPTER SIX: IF YOU PUT IT METAPHORICALLY..._

I slam my tray of food down on the lunch table. I sit down. Irwin slams his tray down on the table, too. He gives me a spiteful glare as he sits down in front of me. Billy slams his tray on the table, too. He pauses, then slams it a few more times, until most of his creamed corn is splattered across the table and his chocolate milk is on the floor.

He smiles, satisfied, then sits down as well.

"So, Irwin," I say.

"So, Mandy?"

"You just _had_ to try and bring it up right then and there, didn't you?"

"Well, I don't see where I would have had any other opportunity to talk about it, yo," he says curtly.

"So you decide to try to talk about it in front of the whole school?!"

"Maybe catching you off guard is the only way to get you to listen to me!"

"Um," says Billy. "What're you guys talking about?"

"Well, Billy--" says Irwin.

"Nothing!" I say. I look at Irwin pointedly. "Absolutely _nothing_."

"Yeah?" says Irwin. "Well, it sure was something two years ago."

"Maybe then, yes. Then, it was something. Now, it's nothing-- and it always_ will _be nothing for the rest of our lives."

"You can't just turn something into nothing!"

"Well, sure you can," I say. "It's like a storm. All you have to do is leave it alone until it blows over."

"Maybe a two-year storm can't blow over."

"Storms can't go on for two years, Irwin."

"On Jupiter they can!"

"Well, I don't know what planet you think you're on, but here on Earth, storms don't last that long. You can keep bringing them up all you want, but that doesn't mean they're still going on," I say.

"It doesn't matter if they're still going on or not. What matters is_ they happened_."

"That doesn't mean you have to keep dwelling on them!"

"What about the people who get affected by them?!" says Irwin. "Don't they matter?"

I take a bite of my spaghetti. "I say the people should just get over it and move on. Maybe it wasn't that big of a storm, anyway."

"All storms are big, yo!" says Irwin. "That's why they're called _storms_ and not showers or mist or... or... partly cloudy!"

"It doesn't matter how big the storm is," I say, "as long as it's _over_."

"It always matters how big they are! If they're just showers, then nobody gets hurt! Storms can tear you apart! _Tear you apart_, yo!"

"Oh, quit being such a drama queen," I say.

"I'm not being a drama queen, I'm being realistic, yo! Storms _always_ affect you, and if you don't do anything about them, the effects just get _bigger!_"

"Well, I...," I think a moment. "Look, forget storms! It's like a scab. If you keep picking at it, it keeps coming back, but if you leave it alone, it goes away."

"How could you compare that beautiful moment to a scab, Mandy?!"

"Because that's exactly what it is!" I say. "It's a big, ugly scab! A blemish on both of our lives! And if you'd just stop touching it, it'd go away completely!"

"But if you want the scab to stop hurting, you _have_ to touch it! Otherwise, it just gets infected, yo!"

"If you'd just stop touching it," I say, "maybe it wouldn't get infected so often!"

"Well, I... I... uhh...," Irwin pauses. "Wait-- it's not a scab, it's a cat! A cat, Mandy!"

I blink. "How the heck is it a cat?"

"Well, if you leave it alone and stop feeding it, it just dies! So you have to feed it to keep it alive!"

"Maybe I _want_ the cat to die," I say.

Irwin gasps. "Mandy! You're a horrible person!"

"What? I hate cats. They just leave hair on all your stuff and puke on your carpet."

"Cats are beautiful and elegant creatures!" says Irwin. "Respect them, Mandy. _Respect the cats!_"

"Respect your own stupid cats!"

"Wait!" says Billy. "I'm having trouble. Which one of you is the storm?"

I sigh. "Nobody's the storm, Billy. The storm is an event in time--"

"I thought the _scab_ was the event," he says.

"No, the scab is-- Forget the scab, Billy, it doesn't matter anymore."

"But if the cat has a scab and it's trying to..."

"No! See, the cat is the same thing as the scab. They're the same."

"But I-- wait... the cat... in the storm... and... if there's a scab, then that means..."

"No," I say. "The cat and the scab are the same as the storm."

"So the scab--"

"_Enough with the metaphors!!_" Irwin shouts suddenly. We both look at him. "It doesn't _matter_ what's what, yo! The fact of the matter is _Mandy kissed me!_"

Billy sits there, quiet with shock. I stare at Irwin, my eyes wide with fury.

"You kissed Irwin...?" Billy says to me. "When?"

"Two years ago!" Irwin shouts. "And then she got mad at me and made me promise not to tell anyone! And she wouldn't let me talk about it with her, either! She's a control freak, yo! A control freak!!"

"Oh, shut up, Irwin, you don't know what you're talking about," I say.

"She wouldn't let you talk about it?" Billy says. "That doesn't sound very nice..."

"No, she just buried it for two years!" Irwin says. "And then everything got ruined!"

"Oh, come on!" I say. "You're exaggerating! You're just mad because you didn't get your way!"

"Since when was this about me getting my way, yo?!"

"You just got me to kiss you so you could--"

"Oh! Oh! Okay!" he says, throwing his hands in the air. "So now I _got_ you to kiss me! I tricked you with my evil, seductive powers, and _why?_ So I could catch you in my _bear-trap_ of love! Isn't that always your story! No, _you're_ never at fault for manipulating me or hitting me! _I'm_ the evil one for being the creepy boy who likes you! And why? _Why?! _Because the girl is always the victim in these situations! Isn't that right?!"

"Irwin--!"

"Isn't that right, Mandy?!" he says.

"Oh, would you calm down?? That's not what I said!"

"Oh, yeah?" says Irwin. "Well, what _have_ you been saying for the past two years, Mandy? That I was _right?_ That I had a _point??_"

"Irwin, I don't feel like discussing this."

"You never feel like discussing this!!"

"That's 'cause it isn't important!" I shout.

"Oh, yeah! I forgot! Irwin's never important! Only Mandy and Billy and Grim are important! That's why you're always at Billy's house and not mine!"

"That's not true!"

"Oh, yeah? What do you think, Billy?" he says.

But Billy isn't there.

We sit for a moment, taking in the sudden quiet like two animals coming out after very heavy rain. Then I stand up. It's not like Billy to wander off in the middle of lunch without bringing his food with him. Irwin stands up, too, and we look around the cafeteria.

"Maybe he went outside, yo," says Irwin. We go out the cafeteria door and onto the black top where students tend to accumulate during lunch hours. Sure enough, Billy is out there.

"Hey, everybody!" he calls. "If you're wondering what's going on with me and Mandy, I have something to say!"

* * *

**Author's Note:** That's it so far! Having Mandy and Irwin argue using metaphors was partly to make fun of myself as a writer, as I love using metaphors as a literary device. But I can't help it; they're so fun! Metaphors are... the chocolate chips in my big cookie that is writing. They are the shiny stones on my literary bracelet. The verbal flowers in my grassy storytelling meadow. (And yes, I realize that what Mandy and Irwin were using were technically similes because they said "it's like" rather than "it is". Don't get all technical on me!)


	7. You Lookin' For A FIGHT?

**Disclaimer:** _The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy_ is not mine. It belongs to Maxwell Atoms and Cartoon Network, and they can do whatever they want with it. Even... (sniff)... cancel it... without putting out enough DVDs... (starts bawling hysterically) WHY!? WHY?? Ahem... Enjoy the story...

**Author's Note:** Here's chapter seven, up and running! Hope you all like it!

_CHAPTER SEVEN: YOU LOOKIN' FOR A FIGHT?_

Do you ever get the feeling like your own best friend is about to brutally mutilate your reputation without even realizing it? If you do, then you probably know where I'm coming from. I mean, don't get me wrong: my social life never did have the prettiest little face you ever did see, and I'm not much of a stickler for looks, but still. It's not like I need to have Billy shoving it head-first into a blazing pottery kiln.

For the first few moments, Billy's statement makes me freeze. Then, I start running towards him as fast as I can.

"The thing is," Billy says, "Mandy and me--"

"Stop!!" I scream. "_Shuuuuut... uuuuup!!_"

Billy turns around. "Mandy...?"

Before either of us has time to think, I leap forward, knocking into him and bringing us both to the ground.

"Mandy?! What are you doing?" he says, eyes wide.

"What am _I_ doing?" I say. "What are _you_ doing?!"

"I'm telling them," he says. "They got's to know sooner or later!"

"Are you kidding me?! Billy, these people don't need to know anything about that!"

"Yes, they do!" he shouts. "And you would never have even let them talk about it!" He tries to push me off of him, but I manage to hold him down.

"It's none of their business, you idiot!" I yell in his face. "You're just confused because you're stupid!!" From the corner of my eye, I can see a ring of spectators begin to form around us. Well, great. We must make a pretty entertaining show. Billy fights my grasp until he manages to roll me onto my back.

"Just let me say it, Mandy!!" he yells.

"No!" I yell louder. "Shut up! Just _shut up!!_"

I roll him over again and he tries to kick my stomach.

"Get off!"

"Not until you _shut up!_"

"Not until you _get off!!_"

He grabs my wrist and squeezes, and I start punching him with my free hand. Before long, we're fighting like two elementary school kids. Our make-shift audience starts cheering and shouting. "Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!" they chant. Someone starts throwing bits of their lunch at us.

Billy reaches for my hair and pulls.

"Oww!" I yell. "That's cheating!" I punch his stomach.

"Hey! You're cheating, too, you cheater!" Billy screeches.

I'm about to reach for his neck when I feel someone grab my arms from behind. Billy and I keep kicking wildly at each other before we realize we're being dragged apart. Slowly our aggression fizzles away as it comes to us that we've been momentarily restrained. We grow quiet, glancing around at the people now surrounding us. I look at the man holding Billy. It's Coach, who works as a lunch monitor every other weekday. I look at the person behind me. It's the lady who served me my creamed corn about fifteen minutes ago. She hands me off to Coach as well, who escorts Billy and me to the deans' office.

We sit down in a couple of metal folding chairs, still glaring at each other. Coach stands in the doorway. Dean Fitzgerald sits in a black swivel chair, looking at us both and writing our names down in a little book decorated in Endsville Middle School's red and silver. _The detention list_, I think. _Perfect place to show school spirit. _She finishes up, then motions for Coach to leave. He shuts the door behind him.

"So, I understand you two were fighting?" she says.

"Yes," I answer. "What's your point?"

She gives me a look, then goes on.

"Could you tell me why you were fighting?" she says.

"Well, Mandy and me--"

"Billy and I," I interrupt, "have a secret. And, well, he wasn't supposed to tell anyone, but he tried to anyway." My sense of justification deflates a little as I realize that my explanation must sound extremely juvenile. I add, "It was, umm, a really big secret, and he promised not to tell." Jeez, that sounds even worse. I just fold my arms and glare at the wall.

Dean Fitzgerald looks at Billy. "Do you have anything to say about this?"

Billy clears his throat and stands up, as if he could possibly have something important to say. "All I have to say," he begins calmly, "is that Mandy is a big, stupid meanie that calls names and fights like a girl and has a big, fat, ugly _butt_ that she licks _every day_--"

"Billy--" I say.

"_Wait-wait-wait!_" he says, holding up his finger.

"But I--"

"_Wait!_"

"Buh--"

"_Wait_. Quiet."

"I don't believe this," I mumble.

He puts his hand down. "..._because_ she likes to lick butts. That is all." He sits down.

"Okay," I say. "That's great for--"

"And also she hates cats and she wants them to die," he adds quickly.

"Billy!"

"Well, it's what you_ said_."

"Could we return to the topic, please?" says Dean Fitzgerald, looking rather annoyed. "Now, do you two really think that fighting was the best way to handle the situation?"

We look at each other. "Yes."

"And why is that?"

"I shrug. "I dunno. Billy's just--"

"Mandy's just stupid!"

"_You're_ calling_ me_ stupid?"

"Stupid and ugly!"

"Wait!" says Dean Fitzgerald. "Listen! Don't you two think it would be best if you just talked to each other about this?"

Billy glares at me. "No, because_ she_ won't listen!"

"I told you, Billy, it's not important enough to talk about!"

"Yeah, it is! You're just lazy because of your _big, lazy butt!_"

"Billy!"

"_Big, lazy butt! Big, lazy butt!_"

"Quiet, you!" Dean Fitzgerald says, eyeing Billy in annoyance. "Now, Mandy. Don't you think that if it's important enough to fight about, then it's important enough to talk about?"

"Yeah, Mandy!"

I shrug again. "No. Not really."

"Aww! Mandy!" Billy says. "Stop being mean!"

"Stop being an idiot."

"Never!!"

"Wha...? There, see? You just made yourself look like more of an idiot. Are you happy, now?"

He stands up. "Maybe I _am_ happy now!"

"Hey! Kids!" Dean Fitzgerald gets up and tries to push Billy back into his seat.

"Unhand me, Woman!"

"What?!" she says. "What did you just call me?"

"Filthy Scarlet!"

"_What?!_"

"Billy!" I yell. "See, _this_ is why we always get messed up. You can't stop being an idiot, and then you just get us into trouble!"

"What, you lookin' for a fight?!"

"Hey! Calm down!!" says Dean Fitzgerald.

"Billy, control yourself."

"No! You control _yourself!_"

"Would you please just _make sense_ for once??"

"Never!!"

"_Hey!!_" screams Dean Fitzgerald so suddenly that we both look around. "I don't believe you! How do two people fight that much in _one day?!_"

Billy sits down slowly.

"Why can't you two kids just listen to each other?! If you can't just learn to sit down and talk things out, you're just going to fight until you kill each other! Do you really, _really_ think it's worth it??"

Billy looks at me. I look at him.

"Y'know, Ms. Fitzgerald?" Billy says.

"Yes, Billy?"

"I think... I think that Mandy would be listening a lot better, but she's too busy licking her own big, ugly _butt!!_"

"What?!" I yell. "What does that have to do with anything?!"

"Well, it--"

"_Get out of my office!_" says Dean Fitzgerald loudly. "Just... _get out!_ You both have two hours' detention! Just... _go!!_"

We find ourselves hustled out of the office. The door shuts behind us. Billy and I continue to yell about my butt.

**Author's Note:** Well, that's it. Not much to say, here, but... hope you liked it!


	8. Accidents Happen

**Disclaimer:** _The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy_ does not, will not, cannot, and should not belong to me.

**Author's Note: **Ahhgghh!! Sorry I was gone so long! Two things happened to make this chapter so late: One, I recently came up with some new original characters and have started drawing them everywhere like crazy. I was completely obsessed with them for several days and was thus blind to all things fandom-related. Two, right when I was just starting to think about getting back to the old computer and typing up chapter eight, I got grounded for a week and couldn't touch the computer at all. I'm so sorry! But don't worry, I didn't up and quit on you, or anything. I'm still writing the story, and chapter nine should be up on schedule, as planned. In the mean time, enjoy chapter eight!

* * *

_CHAPTER EIGHT: ACCIDENTS HAPPEN_

"Shlut up. Ish' not funny..."

"Yes. Yes it is!"

Let me tell you a couple helpful pieces of wisdom about sleeping pills. One: Don't take six when the box says to just take two. Last night, I was so desperate for some decent rest that I just rummaged through the medicine cabinet until I found my mom's old prescription sleeping pills. She hasn't taken any in forever, since she started doing that new-wave tai-chi yoga dance-thing, so I decided to use a few for myself. Unfortunately, I forgot to check the recommended dosage, and by the time I actually did check, I'd already popped three times as many as was recommended for my age. But, seriously, try three weeks as a chronic insomniac and you won't care what the stupid box says.

Did I sleep? Try "blacked out for six hours straight". Well, for the first twenty minutes I just felt all loopy, but then nothing. Out like a light. Which brings me to Helpful Piece of Wisdom Number Two: After consuming, remember to bolt all doors and windows. I woke up sprawled across the living room carpet at about seven o'clock in the morning. I have no idea where in the heck I could have gone during those six hours, but the soles of my socks were jet black, and I'm pretty sure I ate a good deal of the things in my refrigerator.

Number Three, you ask? If you do so happen to ignore numbers one and two, _do not go to school._ Why? Because your speech _will_ be slurred; your eyes _will_ go in and out of focus at random intervals; your breath _will _smell pungently of tuna, garlic, and chocolate ice cream; and you _will_ be laughed at.

"You sound like a drug addict!"

"Shchut... up!"

"You're drunk!"

"I am'n... ott!"

"Yes you are! You totally are!"

My stupid classmates have been making comments on my temporary speech impediment all morning long. I'd make a comment back, but since my brain is currently moving at about four miles per hour, all I can do is try to brush them off with responses like, "I'mmot drunk. Shchut up."

By second hour, although my speech has not improved by much, my thought process is back to normal. It takes a slow and painful reading aloud from three pages of my history book, but my mind finally decides to click on. Unfortunately, even though I'm now thinking, I still sound funny. I swear on my life that I'm never taking any medicine again. For anything. Not even if I'm about to die of some horrible disease. Never.

The bell rings. I step out of the room, textbook in my arms. I pass Billy at his locker, talking to Matt from my science class. I head for my... wait. _Who_ was he talking to? And _why?_

I run back down the hall and grab Billy's shoulder. "_Bfilly?!_"

"Ah! Mandy?! Where'd_ you_ come from?"

I hold my grip on his shoulder firmly. "Whab're you thwo thalkim abouh'?"

"Wh..." Billy looks at me. "What are we... what?"

"Not thelling any... _shecreths_, are you?"

"What about sheep kids?"

"_Shecreths!_"

"Umm," says Matt, "I believe it's goats that have kids."

"What's wrong with your voice, Mandy?"

"Schut up. I said 'she... creth'. Shecreths!"

"Wha... oh," Billy narrows his eyes. "This again. Matt, I'm gonna have to go."

Billy and I walk down the hall until we're out of earshot. Then Billy turns to me.

"I wasn't telling the stupid secret, Mandy!"

"Yeshh, well I wash jush making sure!"

"You always got's to make sure! I'm tired of making sure! When are you gonna _be _sure, Mandy?!"

"How can I be sure with shomeone who jush triedda _shpill_ the whole thing fibe daysh ago?!"

"Just quit following me around, Mandy! I'm not gonna do anything!"

"How can I thrush you?"

"Just trust me! Jeez!"

"Well, I don' shee how I can jush--"

"But why? You're my friend!"

"Look, Bfilly! The reashon I can't thrush you ish becaush you were the one who deshided to thell evvyone abouddit! How cannoo blame me if evvythime I shee you thalking to shomeone, it looksh like you're aboudda shpill the whole shtupid bishness abouh' the kish?!"

Billy is silent for a moment. He looks at the floor. "Mandy..."

"Whath?"

"I... I have no idea what you just said."

"Whath?! Bfilly!!" I yell. "I jush shaid-- uggh..." I sigh. "If it washn't for thish shtupid... accident, none of thish would be--"

The bell rings, cutting my complaint a few sentences short. Billy and I rush to grab our books and get to the next class.

It takes all the way until lunch for my speech problem to completely disapear. I'm glad it's gone, but now I have a new problem: Irwin. Once again, I have to deal with his petty, angry sulk-fest all the way through my meal of mashed potatoes and meat loaf. I sit there and groan as he mumbles fragments of a would-be argument under his breath, looking up from his food to glare at me once in a while.

"(...doesn't even want to talk about it...)" mumbles Irwin as he lifts his potatoes to his mouth. "(...just like her to... always has to... always going around...)." He sighs conspicuously and glances at me before taking another bite. I roll my eyes and keep eating. The minutes tick by as about a hundred other kids chatter and yell in the background. Suddenly Irwin looks up.

"Say something, Mandy!" he shouts, slamming his spork down on the table.

I stir my mashed potatoes stiffly, keeping my eyes on my tray. "No."

"Why not?!"

"Because it is not open for discussion, and we should both just forget the whole thing," I reply curtly.

"That's not good enough, Mandy! Give me a real reason!"

"No."

"Come _on_, yo!"

"No."

"Mandy, I-- listen, all I want is--"

I look at him. "Irwin? I refuse to talk about this with you."

"What?! You can't refuse! Mandy!"

"I'm done with the conversation, Irwin."

"Mandy, _come on! _Agghh!" He jabs his spork into his styrofoam tray in violent frustration. Then he sighs slowly and rests his head on his fists, watching it gradually tip over into his food.

"Mandy... look. Someday, we're both gonna wish we'd talked about it, but by then it might be too late. Think about it, yo! What's gonna happen then, huh?"

I swallow my mouthful of lunch. "Billy, would you quit chewing your food that way? It's disgusting."

"Mandy!" Irwin says. Then he opens his milk. "Fine, then, yo. Be like that!"

I don't hear another word from him all day.

* * *

I arrive at my third hour the next morning only to be sent out again by Mrs. Jones.

"Mandy, would you be a dear and make some copies for me? I'll give you the key to the copy room." She drops a considerably thick pile of forms and notices into my arms, with the key on top. I roll my eyes.

"And why am I the one doing this?"

"Why, you're the only one I trust with the keys, dear!" she says brightly. "Any other student might lose them, or sell them for some sort of illegal object."

I groan, but leave the room anyway. I almost feel sorry for the old woman; she trusts me, unwisely, with a good many responsibilities. It's probably mostly to do with her visual way of judging the surroundings. I am the nicely-groomed blonde girl with the modest, pink sweater and the good grades. I must be a kind, dependable, and wholesome person, right? Someday, after I graduate, I'm gonna tell her all about how I used to overfeed my goldfish a little more each day, just so I could watch them get sick.

I make my way down the hall and up the stairs, then unlock the door to the copy room. I push the door open and find myself staring somebody's rear end right in the face. The person's head is hidden beneath the lid of the copy machine.

"Uh, hello? I've gotta make some copies here. Would you get off the stupid machine?"

The person lifts the lid and turns around. It's Billy. I should have known.

"What're you doing here, Billy?" I say.

"Makin' copies for my teacher."

"Of your face?"

"_No_," says Billy, as if I'd just asked the most juvenile question. "The ones of my face are for me. Teacher's stuff is over there." He gestures to an untouched stack of class reminders sitting on a nearby table.

"How long have you been in here?"

"Since last period," he says. He opens the machine again and sticks his face in. A light flashes and he laughs loudly. I grab hold of the back of his shirt and yank him out.

"Ow! Mandy!"

"I have to make these copies!"

"No! I'm busy with it!"

"Billy! Let go of the machine!"

"Never! I shall never surrender my booty to the likes of thus!"

"'Thee'! It's 'thee'!"

"Whatever's! I got's ta make pictures of my face!"

I shove Billy out of my way and grab for the machine before he has time to push another button. He makes a face at me, but steps away from the copier.

I pick up the first form. It's a notice for the French Club's latest ice cream social. Stuck to it is a little, green sticky note that says, "Print me on pink paper-- I'm festive!" I roll my eyes and set the color to white.

For the next several minutes, the only noise is the beep and whir of the machine and Billy breathing through his mouth. Then Billy turns to me.

"Mandy?" he says. "Are you and Irwin still fighting?"

I shrug and put in the next form. "I guess. Yeah."

"Oh. Is it because of... because of...?"

"Yes, Billy, it's still because of that. Just like it was yesterday and the day before. Now, would you let me do my work, please??"

"Oh, sorry." He steps back from the copier a little more. He waits a while, then pokes me on my shoulder.

"What?!" I say, exasperated.

"Why are you and Irwin so mad about it?"

I sigh. "Because it was a stupid accident and it messed everything up. Okay?"

"Oh... You don't like accidents, do ya, Mandy?"

"No, Billy. I don't. I do not like accidents. Now, leave me alone."

He glances over to his left, in an almost hesitant manner. "...Ours was an accident, too, huh?"

I flinch. "What?"

"Our... you know... at... at the sleep over..."

I rest my hand on the whirring machine. "Billy. Didn't I tell you not to discuss that with me, anymore?"

"Yeah, but--"

"You have a class to get to, right? So get there!"

"But..."

"Okay?"

"But Mandy!..."he blurts, "What if... what if it wasn't an accident?"

I pause with my hand just above the print button. "Um... what?"

He looks almost... nervous. "What if... I mean... what if we both... If nobody... If something was... uh..."

"Finish your sentences."

"Um... Mandy?" he says slowly. "What if... we... again... right now..."

I step a little closer to the printer. "You... you mean...?"

"Yeah," he says. "Since I told you, it wouldn't be an accident... right?"

"Uhh..."

Time stops, and we stand, frozen. A million minutes later, Billy steps closer. Then I almost say something, and he almost says something, and we kind of get just a little closer to each other than two people do on an average basis, and then something else happens, and then I think I taste chocolate, and I wince a little because I realize he's probably tasting garlic. How _do_ you define "accident", anyway?

Suddenly we both slip backward just a little too much, and I hear a beep. Then sheets of pink and white paper start shooting out of the copier at full speed. A clumsy loss of balance and a loud crash, and before we know what's happening, we have no idea what's happening. I look around, and then up, and I realize that there's an utterly confused boy lying on top of me. Okay. I've gotten into a lot of awkward situations with Billy, but _really?_ Come on! He smiles at me nervously, and I just roll my eyes. Then we both hear a horrible crunching sound and look down. I get up, shouting an obscenity, and he falls to the floor. The copier is broken.

When we try to tell Dean Fitzgerald it was only an accident, she just sighs and writes our names down in her red and gold detention book.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Wow, spell check must have gone insane trying to figure this one out. With all that speech impediment stuff at the beginning of the chapter, the first couple pages were just covered in red underlines. Not to mention my computer doesn't seem to think "Mandy" is a real word (that gets annoying!). And, yes, a second Billy and Mandy kiss scene, for all you BXM fans out there! I hope the kiss makes up for having to wait an extra couple weeks for the chapter...


	9. Is It 'Rumor' Or 'Rumour?

**Disclaimer:** _Billy and Mandy_? What _Billy and Mandy_? I don't own any _Billy and Mandy_, Officer, I swear! It isn't mine! My, uh, my friend must have put it in my pocket while I was sleeping!

...What?

No! I don't own any cocaine, either! Please! Don't put me in jail! Nooo!!

**Author's Note:** Wow, I just compared my favorite show do an addictive drug... Anyway, this is one of my favorite chapters in the whole story! Just to warn you, some of the content in this gets a little bit heavier that usual. It's not really bad, or anything, just some questionable subject matter. If you read it and think I should change the rating to T instead of K, just tell me and I'll fix the rating. Now, please enjoy the story!

_CHAPTER NINE: IS IT "RUMOR" OR "RUMOUR"?_

Do you ever just get a sinking feeling? You know, it starts as kind of a lurch down in your gut, and then it slowly melts into a nice, thick, black slime sticking to the outside of your stomach. Unpleasant, right? Well, right now on the bus, it seems like all I can do is sit there listening to myself say nothing, and feel the slime trickle down to my liver and slosh onto my kidneys. And it seems like Billy's going through the same thing.

Neither of us seems to really know how to act ever since Unmentionable Event Number Two. This last kiss was completely voluntary on both sides. _What does that mean?!_ What's our relationship _now_, I ask you? Was this supposed to be a good thing? Is it a good thing? It doesn't exactly feel like a good thing... What were we intending, here?

We get off the bus and make our way down the hall. Billy stops at his locker.

"Uh... Bye, Mandy," he says.

"Ye-yeah, see you, uh..., later..." I say. We both hesitate, like we're waiting for some sort of cue that we know isn't really ever going to come.

"Have a... great morning, Mandy..."

"Uhh, sure..."

He coughs.

I cough.

He scratches his head.

I straighten my hair and square my shoulders.

He coughs.

"Okay, this is weird," I say quickly. "What happened, Billy? 'Cause I have no idea what happened!"

"I... I just wanted to make things better...! You said you didn't like accidents, and I thought maybe... maybe if it wasn't an accident, we'd be happy, and then things could... could go back to... uh... normal..."

He trails off as though suddenly realizing how self-defeating that idea is. He sighs slowly.

"I just... The first time we... The first time it happened, it was like... I mean, I was... It kinda made me... And then you... But... I mean, I don't know. I don't know at all, anymore, and it was all... weird... and now it's still all weird... You know?"

I nod. Because the odd thing is, I totally know. I understand every last one of his fragmented thoughts clear as a bell, and I don't like a single bit of it. What he's saying is, the more we try to clear things up between us, the more it seems to get weirder. It's like one of us has unraveled part of a blanket, and now the more we try to fix it, the bigger of a tangled mess we get.

"So... what should we do?" he says.

"I don't know," I answer. "It's just... just really weird."

"Yeah. Weird," he says.

I feel like we're holding back about something, but I'm not quite sure what. I start to leave, then turn around.

"Billy...?"

"Uh-huh?"

"When we, uh... you know..."

"Yeah?"

"Was it... was it because you..."

"Yeah, Mandy?"

"Uhh..." I turn back toward my locker. "Never mind..."

Then I hurry down to my locker without another word.

Man, this is so completely weird! How in the heck did this happen?! I mean, one day we're fine, and the next day we're fighting, and the next day we're kissing?! What the heck is that? Who in the heck is running my life?! Because I'm pretty sure I've lost control!

...Wait...

What's this?

Someone's taped a small note to my locker on lined paper. I pick it up and look more closely at it. On it is a penciled message that reads, "You're a big skunk."

I'm a "what"? Somebody thinks I smell bad...? I look around, then take a cautious sniff in the direction of my left underarm. That's weird... I don't _think_ I smell bad... Maybe they...

Wait...!

That's an "a"!

"Skank"!

They think I'm a skank! Someone thinks I'm easy! What a little...! When I find that twerp, I'm gonna hurt her so bad! Maybe it was that girl I yelled at last week. Is she seriously still mad about that? What an annoying little idiot. Great, now my morning's off to an even _worse_ start...

I arrive at my first hour ticked off and grumbling. I pull out my work and sigh. I guess I'd better just forget it for now... but somebody's still gonna pay! In the mean time, I have a question on the board to answer.

I copy the question off the whiteboard and start trying to think of a way to answer. Usually it takes me next to forever to finish these things. It's not like I don't understand them; it's just that there's always these three stupid girls who just sit behind me and yap like a pack of chihuahuas on fast-forward. They're so distracting. I swear-- if you could get everyone in their immediate families, inbreed them for two-hundred years, ship them overseas and then just let them gossip about each other, you'd have the perfect torture for war captives on enemy turf.

But the strange thing is, I get the question done in less than three minutes. That's odd... Have the lapdogs finally shut up? Did they lose their voices from all that yapping? Or did someone just steal my idea and ship them overseas?

I glance around at them to see what's keeping them so strangely quiet. They appear to be... doing their work, for once. That's... unusual. I turn back around, and I hear one of them whisper.

"(D'you think she heard us?)"

Wait... what? "Heard them" what? Were they talking about me? I lean back in my chair just a tiny bit. I listen closely, and I can hear the faintest of whispers coming from the three chairs behind me.

"(Really? Why?)"

"(I don't know why. I didn't know she was that kind of girl.)"

"(Yeah. I'm surprised.)"

"(I'm not _that_ surprised. I mean, she's so antisocial... If she hangs out with _him_ all the time, there's gotta be something _in it for her_.)"

"(What would she want from someone like him?)"

"(I don't know. Money?)"

They start to giggle. I start to feel uneasy. They _can't_ be talking about me... I decide to try something. Casually, I knock my pencil off my desk in their direction. Then I turn around.

"Excuse me. My pencil fell under your desk," I say to the first girl. "Can you get it for me?"

They fall silent and look at each other. One of them bends down to get the pencil.

"That sounds like an interesting conversation," I remark, hoping to sound as if I hadn't just been listening to every word with my ears perked.

"We really weren't talking about anything...," the first girl says. "Just... you know... stuff..."

"Yeah," the third girl seems to be holding back another giggle. "Stuff."

"Oh," I say, taking my pencil back. I turn back around.

"(She _was_ listening to us!)" the first girl says. "(I guess she's a skank _and_ a stalker.)"

This makes me turn around quickly.

"Why do you keep looking at us?" the second girl says. "What do you want?"

"Uhh...," I say, glaring at them, "I just thought I'd dropped something else."

As I walk down the halls, people stare at me. Not everybody, just several of the resident yap-trap girls and cellphone text maniacs. Things are pretty normal in my second hour, but in third hour people are whispering about me again. I start to feel really uneasy when I hear my name whispered three times in the same class, accompanied with hissy laughter and a couple dirty looks. There's even this one girl-- her name is Trisha, an unblinking morality freak who carries a daily planner everywhere she goes-- who gives me this creepy death stare for half the class time as though I've committed some sort of crime. And who knows? It's been a couple hours, and words spread like wildfire in this school. For all I know, I could be a psychotic, horribly disfigured, trap-setting murderer who hides behind a mask in the depths of an opera house and desperately plots an unrealistic future with my beloved Christine. Unfortunately for Trisha, I have an even creepier death stare. All it takes is a quick glance and she backs off for the rest of the day.

Still-- even if people are conveniently too frightened of me to jeer in my face, there's definitely something going on. Apparently, someone got the impression that I've been letting the opposite sex get a little too casual with me, and now it's traveled all over the school. It's really starting to make me mad, too. I mean, come on. When have I ever gone around flirting with people? I don't even like a towering majority of the people on planet Earth, much less my school. I just hope whatever idiot it was who started this thing gets taught a good, painful lesson.

The next morning, it's the same thing. Even Mrs. Jones is looking at me kind of oddly. The classrooms. The halls. The bathrooms. My locker. Everywhere I go, somebody is there to remind me of some unknown social disgrace I've apparently been committing. I arrive at my fourth hour class feeling like I could kick a desk over. As usual, all I have to do is look around and somebody's off whispering about me.

Who is it this time? Looks like Jenny, a girl with a pagan star on her shirt, a Jesus fish on her bracelet, and a Star of David around her neck (Don't try to ask her which one she is, by the way. She'll just stare at you blankly and say, "I'm not a star _or_ a fish, stupid. I'm a human being!"). She's talking to Amy Summers, a girl with an acute orange obsession (meaning she comes to school every day drenched in the color orange like a big, neon safety cone. Forget street signs-- just stick her on the side of the road and tell her to shout "Construction zone ahead!!" at every passing car. It would work, I swear.). The two of them are just sitting there whispering, giggling, and looking at me. Whispering, giggling, and looking at me. I glare at them before sitting down.

"All right," says my teacher. "You should all have the answers to the questions on the board by now. Do we need to go over any of them?" The teacher nods as questions one, two, and five are called out. He starts writing them down on the board.

"Okay," he begins. "So, for number one, you start with..."

"(Really?! Oh my gosh! I had no idea!)"

I look over at the two girls. I can still hear them whispering, even under my teacher's loud voice.

"This is the part where you would have wanted to..."

"(...Well, maybe that's how it_ started_, but...)"

"Then you draw a line here. Remember the trick we learned? You just have to..."

"(...But can't you get, like, diseases that way...?)"

"And then all you have to do is..."

"(...Well, she probably has tons of diseases by now, but you know Mandy...)"

"And if you'll turn your attention to number two..."

"(...Well, _I'd_ be ashamed! I wouldn't even be able to look at myself in the mirror! I mean, what's wrong with her?)"

"What_ is_ wrong with me?!" I stand up before I can stop myself. Everyone in the class stops what they're doing and stares at me. More people start whispering.

"Um, Mandy?" says the teacher, somewhat fazed by my unexpected actions. "What... what are you doing?"

I stand there for another second. I feel a little silly, but I don't let it show on my face. Instead, I glare at Jenny and Amy for another moment, then sit down slowly. I keep staring until they each look considerably nervous, then turn my attention back to what the teacher is saying. Class goes on.

After class is over, I stop them on their way out the door.

"Hey! Jenny! Amy!"

They look at each other, then stop reluctantly.

"What?" Jenny says.

"You two were talking about me," I say. "Don't try to pretend you weren't. You were. You have been for the past two days. Everybody has!"

"Yeah?" says Amy. She straightens her orange-streaked hair and folds her arms in the "So what?" position.

"Yeah," I say. "So, what's so interesting about me that half the school's population has to know about it?"

She glances at Jenny, smiling suddenly. "She doesn't know," she whispers. The two of them try to stifle another giggle.

"'Doesn't know' what? What don't I know?"

"Oh my gosh, Mandy! I don't believe you!"

"What?"

"Uh, you know people think you're easy, don't you? You do _know_ that, right?"

"Um, I kind of got that impression, yes."

"So, what do you want?" Jenny says.

I narrow my eyes. "I want you to tell me who started this garbage so I can beat them to a bloody pulp," I say quietly.

Amy's eyes widen, her metallic orange eye shadow glinting in the light. "Whoa! Calm down! Nobody knows who saw it first!"

"Saw what?" I say.

Amy and Jenny giggle again. Then Amy opens up her cellphone and presses a few buttons. She shows it to me, pointing at the screen with a neon-orange fingernail. My eyes go wide.

The photo is blurry and dark, but it's still definitely us. It's of Billy and me, apparently positioning ourselves on top of a malfunctioning copying machine. You ever notice how, if you're playing video games and you pause it suddenly, the characters sometimes come out looking like they're doing something weird? For instance, one guy might be in the middle of a high jump so that it looks like he's mooning the other guy, who's about to turn around so that he looks like he's rolling his eyes at the first guy. Well, this phenomenon actually plays a handy part in the effect of the photo. You see, when we fell, Billy must have been putting his hands down to catch himself. This makes it look like he's grabbing me in some of the worst possible places you can imagine. I had reached up and grabbed Billy's shoulders to keep myself from landing on the corner of the printer, which in the picture comes off as a passionate embrace. I'm caught in mid-blink so that it looks like my eyelids are lowered provocatively. And of course, our bodies are pressed together, because, well, we're falling on each other. The whole thing makes for an extremely scandalous bit of evidence for a popular gossip topic.

I stare at the picture in utter horror, then look back up at Amy and Jenny's grinning faces.

"Did it...? Did they...?"

"Everybody's seen it, Mandy. We all know."

I stand there, staring at the cell phone again, holding it motionlessly in front of me. Amy plucks it from my stiff hand and the two of them leave, giggling again. I let my arm drop to my side slowly as I stare into space.

Everybody knows.

Everybody has seen us.

Everybody is talking about it.

Forget trying to hide it; it's a lost cause, now. Everybody knows what we did! What's more, they're all convinced that we did something even worse!

Have you ever seen those really old cartoons where a person gets so mad that steam starts coming out of their ears and their head makes a noise like a boiling tea kettle? Well, that's me right now. The crowd parts as I make my way down the hall, thick waves of white, hot rage emanating from my body. When I slam the lunchroom door open, people turn their heads to look at me before going back to their lunch. I look around, then find my target. I walk slowly across the lunchroom to a small table where two boys sit like statues watching me.

"M...mandy...?" Billy says. "What are you doing?"

"Yeah, yo, are you okay...?" says Irwin.

"Which one of you idiots did this?" I say quietly.

"Did wha--?"

I slam my fist on the table. "Shut up!" I say. "Don't act like you haven't heard the rumors. Now, tell me: which one of you idiots told?"

**Author's Note:** There you have it! Chapter nine. MuchaLuchaAndMe, I hope you liked the latest in background characters! Also, everyone who got the Phantom of the Opera reference may give themselves a big pat on the back!


	10. Let's Keep This Clean, People

**Disclaimer:** _The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy_ is not mine. Neither is _The Phantom of The Opera._

**Author's Note:** Yeah, here's chapter ten. My apologies-- it's a bit late again! I have a good reason, though: I was at art camp for a week and couldn't type it up. Now I'm back, so... here's the story! Oh, also, I changed the rating to T. Just to let you know...

_CHAPTER 10: LET'S KEEP THIS CLEAN, PEOPLE_

"Mandy... what are you talking about?" Billy watches my clenched fist uneasily. "Why are you so mad?"

"Stop being an idiot! You know why!"

"I... I do?"

"It was one of you, wasn't it?" I say. "One of you let something slip!" I glare at them. "Or _made_ something slip."

"Let what slip?"

"I know you know what I'm talking about!"

There's a short silence. Billy raises his hand slowly. I roll my eyes.

"_What_, Billy?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

I sigh. "Look. There's this rumor going around that I'm... well... that I'm easy. And there's this--"

Billy raises his hand again. "What's 'easy' mean?"

I rub my forehead slowly. "You know. Like, _with guys?_"

He continues to stare at me questioningly. "Easy with guys? Easy how?"

"Uh... you know... like... letting them... touch me and stuff."

Billy stares at me for a moment, then leans over and slowly extends a hand so it's touching my face. Then he returns to his seat.

"Wow!" he says. "That _was_ really easy! Man, they're sure right about you, Mandy. You are one _easy_ girl!"

"Shut up, idiot!" I say. "Not like that! Like... like when we saw that one movie, and there was this one part where your mom made you close your eyes?"

He thinks for a moment, then his face becomes momentarily solemn. "You mean..."

"Yes," I nod slowly. "That. So, there's a rumor going around that I'm easy. And it started with this photo of you and me on top of the copying machine that made it look like I... like we... you know..."

Billy gasps. "Someone saw us...?"

"Well... yeah. They did, but the photo... um... it made it look about ten times worse than it actually was."

Billy is quiet for a moment. "Gosh," he says. "I'm sorry, Mandy."

"Shut up," I say. "It's too late for 'sorry'. But judging by your obvious ignorance about it, I don't think you could have had anything to do with the spreading of the rumor." I look at Irwin, who's been silent the whole time. "What do _you_ think about this whole thing?"

He puts down his juice. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about, 'Could a ticked-off little nerd like you have had a hand in it?'."

"Had a hand in it?! Mandy, why would I do something like that?"

"You tell me. You're the suspect."

His eyes widen. "What?! How are you blaming _me_ for this?! I'm your friend! Remember??"

"My angry friend."

"Mandy!! What are you doing?! I swear I didn't do this!!" He looks at me. "Can't you trust me?"

"How about I try throwing you around a couple times, and we can see if you fly far enough?"

"I don't believe this!" he says. He gets up and picks up his things. "I thought you knew me better than that, yo!!" I say nothing as he leaves the table.

"Wow," Billy says after a while.

"What do you mean, 'wow'?"

"I mean... what's going on?"

I shake my head slowly. "I don't know, Billy. Just eat your lunch."

* * *

"438 _what?!_"

"Dollars," Dean Fitzgerald says, jotting notes down on a little piece of paper. "And twenty-six cents, to be precise about things."

"That's ridiculous!" I say.

Fitzgerald laughs a dry, humorless laugh. "He-heh. No, Mandy. What's ridiculous is two kid breaking a perfectly good copying machine and expecting not to have to pay for it."

"Well, where are we supposed to get _that_ kind of money?!"

"I got's two pennies in my pocket," Billy offers. "I got's a worm, too, but... uh.. I kind of think he..." He opens his pocket and peers into it. "Ah. Yep. He died. You were saying, Mrs. Fitzy?"

Dean Fitzgerald looks at him. "It's, uh, it's 'Ms.', Billy. 'Ms. _Fitzgerald_'."

"Gotcha!"

"Now," she says. "I have talked with your parents, and we've decided that you two will work off your debts to the school after hours by participating in janitorial duties."

"Janitorial _what?!_"

"Work," says Ms. Fitzgerald. "You're going to have to do work."

"I know what it means!" I say. "Listen. Isn't there another way we could do this? My parents could pay this off--"

Dean Fitzgerald smiles. "Oh? Okay, then. Let's have your parents pay it off. Then, when you move out, they can do all your laundry and cook all your food and pay all your taxes for you. Won't that just be fun?"

I glare at her. "So, you'd really rather just make this complicated?"

"If you want to complain, I can always just give you more detention."

I decide to shut up for now. I don't need another hour in room 006 keeping me from my life.

"You and Billy will report to the main desk at three-thirty after school to receive your assignments. Then, you will work until your assignments are complete." She pulls two orange passes out of her desk and writes on them. "You're dismissed," she says, handing us the slips of paper. "You can start today after school."

I leave the office, glance around for the hall monitor, then pull out my cell phone. I dial, then wait. Grim picks up after a couple rings.

"Hello? Who is it?"

"It's Mandy," I say. "I have a new assignment for you. Every day at three-thirty until further notice I want you to come to school and work various janitorial duties. You will arrive at three thirty sharp and wait for me to give you your assignment. Understood?"

"_What?_ Mandy, I can't do that!"

"It's an order, Grim."

"Wha--? Buh--! Listen! You really think stuff doesn't happen to me when you're not around? This job is weighing me down! It's not easy doing what I do, you know?! I have so many stupid, uncooperative clients to deal with, tons of supernatural leaks coming from the trunk all the time, and I don't even want to _mention_ all the chores you make me do! I'm swamped! _Swamped_, mon!"

"I didn't ask if you were busy, Grim. You need time? Make time."

"I don't have any _time_ to make time! Half the time, I'm running on _no_ time! _Negative_ time! Do you want me to fix that computer or _not?!_"

I sigh loudly. "Fine! Stupid bag of lazy bones..." I hang up.

"What'd he say?" Billy says.

"He said he's an idiot, and he's too stupid to be of any help."

"Gosh!" Billy says. "He_ said_ that?! When I tried to get him to say that, he just zapped Irwin's voice recorder to bits and went away!"

"Yes, well, the point is we're going to have to do this work ourselves," I grumble. "Alone."

"Ah, well--" Billy is interrupted by a loud squeal.

"Oh my gosh, I _must say!!_"

"Oh," I say, turning around. "If it isn't the queen herself."

Mindy approaches us, her fancy new shoes clacking on the floor as she comes. "I overheard the whole thing, Mandy, and I absolutely _must say_. Janitorical duties?? That is--"

"'Janitorial'," I say.

"Janitorial duties?? That is so positively _un-classy_ that I can't even begin to describe it. It's like, whoa! Tacky!"

"Tackier than coming to the Earth Day Assembly in a big fur coat that says 'I Recycle'?"

She hesitates. "It's not like they were _endangered_ foxes, or anything. Besides. Janitorical work is just--"

"'Janitorial'," Billy says.

"Besides. Janitorial work is just low. It's like, what are you, anyways? A foreign person? Or a criminal, or something? What are you, a foreign criminal, or something?"

"Uh, yes, Mindy. Exactly. I'm a wanted thief from a far off country come to clean your bathroom."

"Well, I say you're a lewwzer. By the way, Mandy, how are things going with your little boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend," I say.

"Oh, come on, Mandy! Everybody knows about your little game in the copying room. I just feel sorry for poor Billy over here. I mean, does he know you've been letting other boys get so... familiar with you?"

I groan. "Look, I'm not sure how much people are saying about me by now, but it isn't true, all right?"

"Oh, Mandy," she giggles. "You should know not to get into these kinds of situations if you don't want people to talk about you. But, hey. I'll give you props for actually trying to hide it this long." She starts walking down the hall, her shiny shoes clacking along with her. "You're classic, Mandy," she laughs.

I clench one of my hands into a tight fist. If I had the scythe right now, I'd... Oh, wait. I guess I'd probably have to get arrested or something if I did that... Oh, well. I just hope she gets into some really horrible accident.

* * *

The bell rings. everybody leaves. Billy and I stay. We pass empty classes as we head for the main desk. A few stray teachers and students pass us in the unnaturally quiet halls. When we get to the main desk, we find a woman with an expressionless face talking into a telephone propped on her shoulder and typing information into a bulky computer. She glances at us. Her stream of conversation goes unbroken as she hands us two buckets, two mops, a case of cleaning supplies, and a scribbly list of tasks. I hate my life.

I take a look at the list, groaning softly. Among the jobs listed are "mop the cafeteria", "clean first floor hallway windows", and "remove gum from chairs". I look at the mops. They're disgusting. I look at the case of cleaning supplies and realize that neither of us even know how to use a good, hefty lot of the things inside. Did I mention I hate my life? I hate my life.

We grab our great load of stuff and head to the cafeteria. Billy sets his bucket down, fills it with diluted window cleaner, and begins attempting to scrub the floor with the hand broom. I drop all my stuff at my feet, find a table, and sit down on it.

"Well, this stinks," I say glumly.

"It's not so bad," says Billy, "once you get used to the orangey smell."

"I wasn't talking about the soap, you dork," I reply, picking at a worn spot on my shoe.

"Oh."

Things are quiet for a while longer as Billy scrubs the floor and I lie on the table watching two flies attack each other by one of the flickering lights on the ceiling. Suddenly it occurs to me that we're alone. Very alone. I start to feel the black slime on my stomach again.

Out of nowhere Billy says, "Hey, so, uh... how ya been? Things going good?"

I don't respond. I wish he just wouldn't talk to me... He resumes his work. Then he says, "Yeah, well, things've been okay with me, anyway..."

"Shut it," I murmur. "Can't hear my own stupid thoughts..."

"Thoughts? Whatcha thinking about?"

I glance at him. _Us_, I think. _Us, alone. The last time we were alone like this..._ I blink away my thoughts. "Since when is it your business?" I reply.

"Oh," he says. "Sorry." He resumes his work. Then he says, "Those two flies sure are mad at each other, huh, Mandy?"

"Flies don't have feelings. No animals do." Man, why does he have to keep _saying_ stuff??

"Oh." He resumes his work. Then he says, "There sure is a lot of stuff on this floor."

"No kidding."

"I'm not kidding."

"I never said you were."

"Oh," he says. He resumes his work. Then he says, "You have Mrs. Eves, right?"

"Yeah," I say. My hands start to sweat...

"What was the homework?"

"We didn't have any," I say.

"Oh," he says. He resumes his work. I continue to watch the flies. A clock on one end of the room ticks softly away. A clock on the other end of the room ticks to a slightly-off version of the same rhythm, so that the two together produce a sort of _tick-tick... tick-tick... tick-tick... tick-tick_ noise which sounds a little more like the anxious, anticipating beat of a nervous heart than any clock I ever heard. But, you know. Maybe it's just me.

Then he says, "You know, it's kinda funny... I mean... he-heh... this is the first time we've been alone together since... uh... since..." He trails off and I can hear that he's stopped scrubbing the floor. Now the only sound is the two clocks. Or my heart. Or something.

I get up, grabbing my mop and bucket. I head for the lunchroom door.

"Mandy...?" he calls. "Where are you going?"

"To get gum off chairs."

"Oh... You need some--"

"Help? No. See you around."

"But I--"

"Too bad."

"But...," he calls, "there was... something I... wanted to talk about?"

"It's not up for discussion right now, okay?"

"But Mandy--"

"Listen," I say. "If we keep bringing it up and bringing it up, it's only going to get more complicated. I don't want this to be complicated. Okay??"

"But Mandy, I... I just... I...," he sighs, then picks up his soggy broom and smiles. "Okay's! See you later, Mandy!"

I head to the first classroom, my bucket bumping against my legs as I walk. Once I get in, I grab a piece of tissue from the teacher's desk and take a look at the underside of the first chair. Beneath it are a few wads of gum of various colors. I nearly gag. Why do people leave this stuff here?! Is it that difficult to stand up, walk to a trash can, and spit it out?! People sure can be disgusting when they think no one's looking.

I begin trying to scrape the stubborn lumps off of the chair. This is so disgusting. I can't believe I'm actually doing this. Why is nothing going right, lately? First the kissing, now the rumors, now this?! Everything just stinks! Including the orangey smell of the window cleaner! Everything! Stupid Fitzgerald and her detention book...

What's the deal with all these rumors, anyway? Who could have possibly seen us...? Irwin's face flits through my mind... Him? It could be him-- but is he really capable of something like that? I'm sure it wasn't Billy. He's so clueless-- and after all, how would he have taken the picture? I'm pretty sure he's too stupid to have arranged some sort of plan. Trisha? Was it that Trisha girl?

A hundred names and faces come to my mind. Who could it have been? Who would have bee walking by right when the big accident occurred? I get to the seventh chair underside, still wracking my brains. Who was it? How much did they see? Who could have--?

My thumb nail punctures the thin tissue and sticks into one of the fresher wads of gum. My shoulders go rigid and a cold shudder trickles down my spinal cord. Fighting down a lurching gag reflex, I wipe my hand off on my skirt and continue scraping the putrid mess off the bottom of the seat. I hate my life.

* * *

By the time I get to my lunch hour the next day, I have accumulated five secret boyfriends, flirted with all the male teachers, and broken the heart of my fiancé in Germany, who I pledged to marry after having met him on summer vacation, then abandoned at the last minute and never spoke to again. Poor little Johann. All he ever wanted was true love...

Well, the Germany part isn't so common; only a few of the really stupid girls actually believe it. Still, everything else is the honest truth, as far as Endsville Middle School is concerned. At this rate, I truly could be the Phantom of the Opera by next week.

When I arrive at the table with my tray, I find Irwin, sulkier than ever. We haven't exactly been on speaking terms since yesterday, and so I'm actually surprised that he came to sit with us. He seems to be in the middle of a conversation with Billy.

"That's really interesting, Billy," he says. "Why don't you tell me some more of that story?"

Billy looks confused. "What story? I wasn't talking to you..."

"Don't be silly, yo. You were just telling me-- oh." He looks at me. "Mandy. It's you. Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to listen in on people's conversations?"

"But we weren't..." Billy says.

"Yes we were! And Mandy so rudely started listening to us."

"Still mad about yesterday?" I say.

"Still think I'm a grudge-holding gossip, yo?"

"Well, I can't be too careful," I reply, "but who's making any assumptions? I just like to examine the possibilities."

"I still can't believe you see any possibilities at all, yo!"

"Well, I--"

Flash.

My comeback never leaves my mouth; I'm interrupted by a sudden white light and a mechanical click. I blink, then look up at the girl suddenly standing behind Irwin.

"...Dora?" I say.

She grins. "Hey, there, BFF."

"What do you want?" I say.

She smiles, slipping her silver camera into a khaki tote bag. "A good shot, of course. What else?"

I glare. "If this ends up on the internet, I'm gonna beat you senseless."

She laughs. "Don't be silly. I work for the school paper, don't you know? Let me tell you-- your little story's been causing school-wide pandemonium. Everyone wants to know the truth. So the team and I have started a series of articles just about you called 'The Truth About Mandy'. They're a huge hit. We've got nearly twice as many readers as last week, and sales are skyrocketing!"

My face goes sheet-white. "You mean--"

She pulls a copy of what appears to be yesterday's paper out of her large tote bag, still grinning. I take hold of it. On the front page, in full color, is a six inch by six inch copy of the original, grainy cellphone shot taken of Billy and me. I stare at her. "You mean... did _you_ take the--"

"I have no idea who would have taken it," she says, "but it's working wonders for our newspaper sales. Thanks to you, we might just raise enough money to take that class trip, after all." She laughs, starting to walk away. I sit there, burning with rage. "I gotta thank you, Mandy," she says. "You always were such a good friend."

Still glaring, I crumple the newspaper and fling it at her. She catches it and throws it back.

"Keep it," she calls over her shoulder. "I can afford it, trust me." She leaves me sitting at the table, her brightly-colored skirt swishing at her ankles as she goes.

I return to my lunch, which looks even less appetizing now than it did two minutes ago. This is just great. Now I'm a skank _and_ a janitor-- and it's all being published to the last detail in The Daily Blurb. I push my lunch aside and rest my head down on the sticky table top. I hate my life.

**Author's Note:** There you have it, people. Chapter ten. I just hate it when people leave gum on the bottoms of things. It seems like we all should have grown out of that habit by now... Sigh. Oh, well. Some of you may be wondering why Dora is still here, even after Mandy trapped her in the lunch box at the end of _Pandora's Lunch Box_. Well, the way I see it, if Maxwell Atoms was allowed to use her as a background character in later episodes with no explanation whatsoever as to how she got out of the box, I shouldn't have to explain anything, either. See you all in chapter eleven!


	11. Brain Dead

* * *

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy._ Frankly, I don't see how I possibly could.

**Author's Note: **At long last, here's chapter eleven. I realize this one has also been delayed for quite some time. This is partly because of a time-consuming, three-week summer job that my sister and I got. Now that the job is over, I figure it's about time to get back to work on the ol' story.

In other news, there seems to have been some reader confusion about a certain detail of the story. To some, it seems like the dean in my story was originally a man named Thumann, and is now a woman named Fitzgerald. In actuality, there are multiple deans in Billy and Mandy's school. Dean Thumann and Dean Fitzgerald both work there together. I made it this way because my own school is set up that way, but I realize now that many schools may be set up with only one dean. Anyway, the whole business was my fault for not making my writing more clear. I apologize, and I'll try to be clearer as I write the later chapters. So... here's chapter eleven.

_CHAPTER ELEVEN: BRAIN DEAD_

I leave the main desk with all my cleaning equipment in order, but my mind definitely elsewhere. Billy walks next to me through the halls, reading off the jobs from the list.

"'C... clean...'," he fumbles, "'clean the... the... p... princey-pal's oafice'."

"Principal's office, huh?" I say. "That's on the top floor... better get that done, first..."

I head up the stairs, my mind swimming in questions. Who was it? Who was it who took that photo? I mean, it could have been anybody... I'm almost to the top when I notice Billy's footsteps behind me. I sigh, then turn around.

"What do you want?"

"Aren't we gonna clean the office?"

"No," I say. "_I'm_ going to clean the office. You get to stay on the second floor and clean the boys' bathrooms."

"But I want's ta help you!"

"I said no!"

He frowns at me. "Fine..." He trudges back down the stairs.

I get to the top floor and arrive at the office. It looks pretty clean to me, already, and I'm not really sure where to start. I make my way around the desk, straightening flowerpots and staplers as if I was actually doing something useful. I look up from my pseudo-work at the sound of distant footsteps. I turn around just as Billy's face appears in the doorway.

"Hiya, Mandy! Whatcha doin'?"

"Billy! I told you to leave me alone!"

He looks at me, perplexed. "Alone? I thought we were gonna clean the office."

"No! I just told you...," I exhale slowly. "...Fine, whatever. Just don't touch anything!"

"Mr. Roger!" he says, putting two fingers to his forehead in mock salute. He dutifully proceeds to grab a snow globe off a high shelf and shake it as hard as he can. I roll my eyes and continue pseudo-working.

Eventually, I wander into a smaller room with a desk and a little window. Now, whoever works in here has no sense of clean and messy. There are papers everywhere, a cup of what looks like coffee gone three-days cold, and a dated newspaper or two sitting on a black swivel chair. The file cabinets are all open, the computer has been left on, and the trash can contains the remains of a pizza on which something wet and green and alive seems to have taken up residence. It's a mess in here.

I sigh for the thousandth time today and begin closing the file cabinets, which are so stuffed that the mere moving of them poses a pretty big challenge. I'm already winded by the time I force them all shut, so I sit down on the leathery chair. I land on cheap paper, and pull the old school newspapers out from under my legs. The one on top happens to be the one from yesterday of Billy and me on the copier.

"Ughh!...," I groan in disgust, flinging the newspaper onto the piles of desk junk. If only I could find out who _took_ the stupid thing... then I could actually do something about it. But with all the hundreds of people in this school, how am I supposed to narrow it down to the...

I blink.

The computer _is_ on...

This computer is probably used by one of the assistant principals. If I snoop around the students' files, I can find out who has what class, and which classes are closest to the copying room! Then I'll know who was most likely to have taken the picture, and...

"Whatcha doin'?"

I jump and find Billy leaning over my shoulder.

"Oh, it's you." I breathe. "Look, I'm--"

"_Oooooh!_" He shouts.

"What?"

"Oooh! Mandy! You're not supposed to use that computer!! You could go to jail!"

"Shut up," I says dryly. "They can't send kids to jail. Besides, I'm not hacking, or anything. I just need to look something up."

"Look what up?"

"Suspects," I say. "For who took the picture. If I can find out their classes for third hour, I can see who was closest to the copy room. That should pretty much tell me who it was." I turn back around in the chair and start searching names.

"Let's see... Who are our main suspects? Irwin is one; he's been mad at me for days about a two-year problem. There's Dora, who hates me for that stupid fifth-grade friends-thing. She has a good motive, too. If she can use that rumor to sell enough papers, she and her little class can go on their field trip. And Mindy, well... Mindy just hates me."

I search their third hour classes. Mindy has room 203, Irwin has room 204, and Dora has 202. I write down the addresses and print out a map of the school's second floor, as well as some maps of their classrooms.

"Alright. Let's see who's closest to the..." I stare incredulously at the map. All three classes are right exactly next to the copy room! Looks like _my_ job just got harder... I lean back on the chair and groan. We're gonna have to go down there and look at this first hand.

We make out way down to the copy room and quietly walk in. I hold the three maps in my right hand and...

"Ow!" Billy grunts. I turn around to see him rubbing his forehead.

"Would you try to be quiet?" I say. "There could be a janitor walking around somewhere!"

"Sorry," he says. "I hit my head on this weird thing." A hideously colorful lamp juts awkwardly out of the wall like some sort of malignant growth. It's speckled white on red with blue and green stripes, probably meant to look like some bizarre mushroom.

"Just ignore that, Billy," I say. "This used to be an art classroom, or something. There's all kinds of crazy stuff in here. Now, let me think for a minute..."

After looking at the map for a moment, I get an idea.

"Okay, stand right here," I say to Billy, gesturing to the place where the copy machine used to be. "Don't move."

I make my way to Dora's classroom and find her seat. Room 202 is directly across the hall from the copy room, giving Dora a clear shot if both doors happen to be open. I sit down in Dora's desk and look at Billy, then take a picture of him with my phone.

"Alright, just keep standing there, Billy," I say, heading to Mindy's room. Room 203 has two doors, one of which opens up into the copy room. I sit in Mindy's desk and take the second Billy picture. Then I get up and move to Irwin's room, which also opens into the copy room, and snap another shot of Billy.

"Now," I say, coming back to the copy room, "Here are the three possible pictures of the scene." I scroll over the three pictures of Billy on my phone. I pick up the old newspaper with the original picture. "Here's the real photo. Now, let's compare."

I scroll to Irwin's picture. From his seat, I was able to get a clear shot of Billy chewing on his own shirt, but the angles of the surrounding furniture are all different. There's not much similarity between the two pictures except the distance between the camera and the subject.

I move on to Mindy's picture. I can kind of see Billy pulling at a frayed hole in his pants, but not clearly. Part of him is obscured by the door frame, and I can tell that so was most of the copy machine. I can already see that it wouldn't have been easy to see the scene from her room, no matter where she'd been sitting.

Next is Dora's room. I move to the picture of Billy scratching his butt. I hold up the old newspaper. I nod my head slowly. It's a near perfect match. The angles of the furniture are almost exact. With a little zooming in, the distance would be right. I can almost see our original figures popping up behind the new Billy picture.

"I think we've got our criminal," I say. "Look at this."

Billy peers over my shoulder at the two photos. "Hey! I must have been scratching my butt, or something, huh, Mandy?"

"Yeah, whatever-- Look, it matches. Dora was the one who took the picture."

He takes a closer look. "Ohh... So, what're you gonna do?"

I turn around. "I'm gonna be paying our little photographer a visit during lunch tomorrow. Then we'll see just how many more papers she's gonna sell."

* * *

I get to the lunchroom the next day mad. I've been building up anger all day, and all night before today. Dora's gonna pay for what she did.

I slowly make my way down the cafeteria, scanning row after row of tables. About halfway down I see her, laughing at some stupid joke with a bunch of her stupid newspaper friends. I come up behind her, noticing a couple of her dog-faced friends getting wide-eyed and nervous. I hear her say, "What is it?" before she too turns around and sees me.

"M...mandy...?" she says nervously.

"Hey there, BFF," I say.

"What... what do you want? Why are you so mad...?" she laughs, unnerved.

"Remember that school newspaper? From two days ago? Guess what. I found out who took the picture."

"Wh... what?" she says. "But... wait... You're not saying it was me, are you? I mean... I couldn't have..."

"Save your stories for the press," I say, slapping the old newspaper onto the table. I open my phone and hold out the picture. "I know it was you. I have proof."

She looks at the little photo. "Billy scratching his butt...?"

"No!" I say. "I mean, well, yes. He's scratching his butt... That's not what I'm showing you! Do you see the newspaper photo?"

She nods.

"Do you see this photo on my phone? Good. These two photos were taken from about the same angle, correct? Correct. And _this_ one," I gesture to the phone, "was taken from _your_ seat in the room _you_ would have been in during the time the original picture was taken. I compared your picture with those for two other suspects, and yours is the only match!"

She's silent.

"So. Do you have any last words before I make you wish you'd never bought your first camera?"

She looks at the newspaper. "I didn't do it."

"Oh, shut up."

"No! R-really! I didn't!!" She looks desperately at the two pictures. "There has to be something...," her eyes light up. "Ah! There! Look at this!! Please, Mandy!!"

I roll my eyes. "What?"

"Look! Look!" She points anxiously to the newspaper. "There's... there's this thing here!! And it isn't in the other one! I couldn't have taken the picture, because the one in the newspaper has this weird thing on the wall, and I've never even _seen_ that from where I sit!! Please don't beat me up! You have to believe me!!"

I look at the two pictures incredulously. She's... she's right. It's that stupid mushroom lamp-thing. Looking closely at the newspaper photo, I can see it in the background-- and there's no way I would have been able to see it from Dora's desk. She's right. Dora is innocent.

Which means I'm no closer to solving this stupid problem than I was days ago.

In fact, frankly, I'm no closer to solving the thing than I was when I first saw the picture. In fact, I'm no closer to solving anything! I feel something inside me start to sink.

Without another word I turn on my heel and march through the cafeteria, frustration filling my gut like vomit. I cannot believe how complicated this whole stupid thing is getting. I walk swiftly past the tables and out the cafeteria door. One stupid picture, a million stupid rumors, and no one even knows who started it. I walk past all the kids on the blacktop and find a small bench around the corner of the school. I sit down and breathe out slowly. This is getting... difficult. Really difficult. Too difficult...

As I sit there, two girls pass me on the sidewalk. I can't hear their voices, but I see them look at me. And giggle. And look at me again. One of them pulls out a phone and starts texting. Some more people pop up and start looking at me. And giggling. And texting. And the horrifying truth hits me for the hundredth time that everybody is doing this, whether I can see them or not.

And why? No reason. I'm just the laughing stock of the whole school. I'm always hilarious to talk about. Because I'm the "skank". Because I'm the latest tabloid victim. Because... Because I... I...

I...

Do you ever have those moments where you just kind of stop thinking? Because right now all that's going through my head is that I... hate... this. I hate this. All of it. And I'm not really thinking about anything else. I'm not thinking about the fact that my backpack is still sitting by my lunch table. I'm not thinking about the fact that I still have three more classes to go before school is over. I'm not thinking about who might be watching me slowly walk farther and farther away from the school. I'm not thinking about what kind of detention I'm going to get, or how many hours I already have. I'm not even thinking about whether or not the bus driver is going to let a twelve-year-old girl get on the bus in the middle of a school day without even asking any questions. All I'm thinking is that I hate this.

I hate this.

I walk into my living room at exactly 1:03 P.M. Grim is dusting some picture frames on the shelf.

"Mandy...? School isn't over, yet, is it? What are you thinking, coming home at this time of day?"

But I don't answer him. I barely even notice him. Because, frankly, I'm sick and tired of all this thinking.

**Author's Note: **Yep, that's chapter eleven. Tell me what you think!


	12. Do You Ever

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy._ And I never will. I never will!! Mwa ha ha ha ha ha ha!! (whoa, what was that just now?)

**Author's Note:** Hey, I'm finally posting once again! I know, I know, I've been gone for forever. Don't eat my head, please, it's the only one I've got!! Anyway, here's chapter twelve for you all. Enjoy!

_CHAPTER TWELVE: DO YOU EVER_

Do you ever just get into a huge mental rut? I mean, really huge. I'm not talking about little things like, "Oh, look, I can't think of anything to do except watch television all day! I'm in such a rut!" No, I mean a big, giant, mind-going-in-circles, monster rut. The kind that comes when you have a big problem, and then that problem turns into more big problems, and then you just keep trying to think of a way to solve the problems, but you can't draw any stupid conclusions from where you're standing, and the more you think about any of it, the less sense it makes, and...

"...Aggh!"

I groan to myself, restlessly pacing in half circles around my bed. I've been thinking about it for hours, now, and I still have no idea what to do. At this rate, the problem is _never_ going to get solved.

I mean, first off, there's the rumors. I have to find out who started this thing so I can teach them a good lesson. Of course, even if I do find out who it was, I still don't know what I'm going to do to_ end_ the rumors. I mean, I could try counteracting the rumors with other rumors that say that the first rumors aren't really true, but... who would believe _that?_ What's more, who would believe _me?_

And what am I supposed to do about all my other problems? Irwin's still mad at me-- madder than ever, since I started openly suspecting him-- and, of course, the stupid kiss thing is still hanging over me and Billy's heads. Actually, one of the reasons I'm so muddled right now is that, because of the rumors, I haven't even had the time or energy to think anymore about all these other things that are going on. I mean, what _am_ I supposed to do about Irwin? And Billy and me? What _is_ our relationship? What _was_ the deal with that second kiss??

I sit down on my bed for a moment, placing my chin on my fists. Ugh... Everything is just so...

Do you ever skip school? Well, I don't. Okay? Only idiots skip school, because they're too stupid to handle the extra thought process brought on by things as simple as an algebraic expression or a new lunch topping. What _I'm_ doing can hardly even begin to classify as "skipping". I mean, I actually have a good reason. Okay? Everything is complicated-- way too complicated. I just need to stay home for a day so I can figure things out. Besides, I had my parents tell the school I'm sick, so technically it's an "excused absence".

Anyway, ever since I walked out of school yesterday, I've been pacing around like this in my room. I haven't even made an inch of headway in any of my problems, and I'm starting to think I may never figure out my stupid life. I fall back on my bed. Maybe I should just take another sick day...

...But, no. Wait. If I do that, people might start more rumors. They'll say all sorts of things. They'll make up all these stories...!

Wait...!

They're probably making up stories to explain my absence right now! Who knows _what_ kind of trash they're saying about me! In fact... who knows what kind of trash they_ aren't_ saying about me!

I stand up again, and begin to pace once more in long, fast strides. Thoughts of what they could be saying begin bouncing off the walls of my skull. Why? _Why_ did I have to stay home today?? I should have just...

Three of my toes whack into the side of my dresser. I guess some very small part of my brain shuts off for a split second, because I suddenly let out the most gut-wrenching, eardrum-bursting scream, and before I know it, the dresser and all its contents are lying on the floor in a scattered mess.

"I wanna play, too!"

I freeze. Oh, no. Oh, please,_ please_, no.

I turn around slowly. "Billy," I say, my voice heavy with weary exasperation, "_Why_ are you here?"

"Well, I heard you were sick!"

"You heard wrong," I say. "Look, is school out already? What were people saying about me?"

"I dunno," he says, "but whatever it was, it probably wasn't as cool as your new game!"

"What new game?"

He points to the dresser at my feet, grinning his usual grin. I follow his gaze, stopping for the first time to take in what I just did.

"...Oh."

"Now it's my turn to knock something over!!"

"Billy, wait--"

My new end table falls to the floor with a crash.

"Your turn!!"

"Billy!" I yell. "Stop it!!"

He pauses. "Oh... Is the game over?"

"There is no game! This isn't a game!"

He tilts his head slightly to the side in what once again strikes me as an almost canine perplexity. "Huh? Then, what is it?"

I look back down at the dresser. "It's... Look, it's nothing, okay? I just... It fell over by accident."

"Oh."

"Yeah," I say. "So, could you go away, already? I can't think with you standing here being stupid."

"Nope's!" he says, grinning even more. "I can't! Because yoouuuuu...," he pokes my forehead with his index finger, "are sick!!"

"Don't be an idiot," I say. "You know I don't get sick."

"Well, all the teachers said you were! And I never like's ta see my best friends get sick! So guess what I did!"

"Billy..."

"Guess!"

"I'm extremely tired right now, Billy."

"Guess what I did, Mandy!! Guessy-guessy-guess-guess-guess-guess-guess!!"

"You got up and left me alone so I could get my rest?"

"_Nope!!_ Guess again!"

I sigh. "You committed slow yet effective suicide, leaving us all to out long-awaited peace?"

"_Wrong! _Keep guessing!!"

"Umm... You put a--"

"_I made you soup!!_"

I blink. "Oh, _please_, no."

"Oh, please,_ yes_," he says, unzipping his Dinobinoids backpack. He reaches in and pulls out a foggy, plastic container with lumpy, orange liquid inside.

"Put that away!" I say, trying to keep myself from imagining what's inside.

"Not until you eat it all up!"

I exhale very slowly. "Billy, you can't possibly expect me to eat that."

"Aww, don't worry, Mandy. It's not gonna make you fat! It's nice and heathy!"

"Just put it away!"

"Nope!" he says. "You have to taste some of the soup, first!"

Ugh, I can't believe this boy! I mean, of all the stupid things! I'm already thinking about my stupid reputation and my stupid friends and my stupid relationship! Does he have to add this, too??

"Taste the soup!"

"No!"

"Just try it!"

"No, Billy, I refuse!"

"It's got chicken!!"

"Billy, I do not want to know what kind of stuff you put in that soup; just get it away from my room!!"

"Oh, Mandy," he looks at me disappointedly. "You have to try it. I already told everybody at school that I was gonna go to your house to give you a special present!"

"Yeah, well... Wait, you told everybody what?" I say.

"I told them I was gonna go to your house and give you a delicious surprise. So you'd better--"

"You told them _what?!_" I feel my insides twinge suddenly.

"I said, I told them I was gonna go to your--"

"Billy, you_ idiot!!_" I yell.

"What?" he looks confused. "What did I do?"

"You told them you were coming over?!" I say. "Billy, that is the_ last_ thing I need!"

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Look," I say. "There are a million rumors going on about me right now._ Bad _rumors. Remember? I told you this!"

He pauses for a moment. "You mean... the rumors about you being...," he touches my forehead. "...easy?"

"Yes! Yes, Billy. Those very rumors. Now, the rumors in question are already very severe. If we're not careful, _anything_ could make them worse!!"

I grab his shoulders. "Do you realize what you did by telling them you were coming over?! Do you know what people must be saying by now?!"

He tries to ease himself out of my grip. "Um... I didn't mean to, Mandy..."

"Oh, you didn't _mean_ to! You did it by _accident!!_ Well, that's just great, Billy! Now I can forgive you, and everything will just be _fine!_"

He looks up. "Really?"

"_No, not really!!_" I all but scream. "Billy, I have about had it with you! You walk around day and night bringing pain and suffering to everyone, and when they turn around and get mad at you, you just tell them about your stupid good intentions!"

"I'm sorry, Mandy... I--"

"Sorry isn't good enough!"

"Well... um...," he says, "I'm... I'm not really sure what it is I did, Mandy."

I groan. "Ohh, of course you don't!" I start to feel the frustration building up inside me again.

"But anyway's," he says, "you're still sick."

"Billy, I'm not sick."

"Don't be a silly Mandy. You need to eat some soup!"

"Billy! I am _not_ sick!"

"It's good for your platypus!"

I can't believe this. I feel the anger at Billy, at the rumors, at everything growing inside me like a colony of putrid, parasitic bacteria.

Billy opens the lid of the container, which releases a curdled stench like that of a dead animal with sour milk poured over it.

"Open wide!"

With that, he pushes the foul concoction toward my face, sloshing a little onto my shirt.

"Billy!!" I yell. "How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not sick! I'm not..."

Do you ever find yourself being forced to eat your own words before you can even get them out of your mouth? I'm not really sure what does it-- maybe it's the stress, maybe it's the anger, maybe it's just the putrid smell of the soup-- but, well... I guess there's really no pretty way to put this.

I throw up.

* * *

Grim is upstairs in a few moments, armed with a pair of rubber gloves and a random assortment of cleaning supplies.

"For crying out loud, mon! You'd think I'd be able to go one whole month without having to clean up somebody's vomit!" He crouches down and begins trying to clean the carpet. "Honestly, Billy! How can one boy make so many humongous messes in one short lifetime? I ought to..."

Billy shakes his head vigorously. "It wasn't me this time, Grim!"

Grim pauses for a moment, then stares incredulously at me. "Mandy...? What did you eat...?" He glances warily at the rancid plastic container. "None of_ that_, I hope."

I just stand awkwardly, my arms crossed, glaring at my closet. I don't believe this. I mean, of all the stupid things to happen. This is so stupid. Stupid Billy. It's all his stupid fault for showing me the stupid soup...

Finally I retreat to the solitariness of the bathroom where I attack my mouth with more than the usual amount of toothpaste, and somewhere around three rinses of mouthwash. Then I go down to the living room, where I sit on the couch, once again glaring and saying nothing. For a while, I'm alone; after about five minutes or so, I hear the familiar thump of footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Heya, Man-day!"

"Don't call me that." I refuse to give him the satisfaction of eye contact. I feel him lean on one arm of the couch as I give sour looks to the other one. He drums on the couch's arm absently.

"Are you mad at me?" He prods the question lightly, as one might cautiously nudge a sleeping tiger to wake it up without angering it.

I just roll my eyes. Then I remember that he can't see my eyes, so I toss a quick glare over my shoulder at him.

"Um...," he says, "is that a 'yes'...?"

I don't answer.

"Um... If it is, then I'm sorry. I mean, I don't know what I did, but I'm sorry..."

I keep staring away from him. "You can't just invade my stupid personal space. Okay?? You do it _all _the time, and I hate it. _Okay??_ So just do us all a favor and get out."

He just scoots closer to me on the couch. "Aww, Mandy," he says, "why won't you look at me? Are you too grumpy?"

I scoot further away.

"Mandy, please look at me... I just want's to see your face..."

I scoot even further, but he comes around the couch to look at me. His guilty smile changes to a look of surprise.

"Hey, Mandy...!" he says. "You look kinda funny!" He examines my face closely. "Your face is all sunburn-colored! You don't have a sunburn, do ya, Mandy? It isn't summer. You can't have a sunburn."

He stares at my face for another moment. Then his expression lights up as if he's just discovered the perpetual motion machine.

"Wait a minute...! You're embarrassed!"

"Billy..."

Do you ever notice how, when you're embarrassed, the last thing you want is for someone to point it out?

"I see! So that's why you're all sunburn-colored! Why are you embarrassed, Mandy? Is it 'cause ya puked in your room?"

I don't answer.

"Don't worry, Mandy! Everybody pukes sometimes. Even Santa!"

"Billy...," I say.

"In fact, one time I puked so much that everything I ate for the last--"

"Billy!"

"What?"

"I'm not embarrassed!"

"Yeah, you are! Your face is all red!"

"Yeah, well...," I say. "Look, just... go away, alright? This is the last thing I need..."

"The last of what?"

"You know! Everything! the stupid rumors, okay?? And Irwin, and the stupid photograph, and... well... you know!"

"Oh...," he says. "Gosh, Mandy, you got's it tough."

I sigh.

He perks up, suddenly. "Hey, Mandy. You know what cheers me up when _I_ get's it tough?"

"If you say chicken soup, I'll murder you."

"He-heh, nope!" he says. "Wrong guess, Man-day!"

Before I have time to register anything, he wraps both arms around me in one of his infamous, boa-constrictor hugs. I yelp as he forces the oxygen out of my lungs like two punctured balloons in a garbage compressor.

"You idiot, what are you doing?!"

"Sometimes ya just need's a hug, Mandy!"

"Sometimes you do _not_ just need a hug!" I say. "Get off me!"

I try to pry him off, but his arms remain locked into place, and after a few moments I just let him hug me.

"You'd better thank your lucky stars I'm so tired; if I wasn't, I'd be beating you to a pulp," I say.

For a few moments, we say nothing. I sit, tolerating his overwhelming happiness, and he continues his suffocating embrace. For a few moments, it's almost back to the way it used to be; the way he would always hug me, before everything got weird, and physical contact became even _less_ pleasant than usual. I start thinking back to before it all happened, before kissing even existed, back when a hug was just a hug.

Then I feel him loosen his grip slightly. I glance at him; his silly grin is gone, and is replaced by another expression, a strange one that I can't really read. It's the same look he gave me back in the copy room.

"...Mandy?" he says slowly.

"Yeah?" I become aware of my heartbeat.

He doesn't say anything more, but slowly tightens his grip around me again, his fingers inching more carefully than usual across my arms. My pulse increases. My breath starts to come a little faster. And yet, for some weird reason, I feel myself start to relax. There's something so solid, so stable about him being here...

...Wait. Hold on. Snap out of it, Mandy. You don't want this to get any more complicated than it already is. Remember?

I snap myself out of it.

"...Uhh, Billy...," I say. "You're, uh..."

He seems to notice what's happening, too, and he backs away a few inches, dropping his arms to his sides.

"Look, Billy-- You need to go. I have to figure out what's going on with the photograph, and I _still_ don't know who took it... It's just getting really complex and confusing, and... well..."

"Yeah," he says, "confusing. I mean, it's gotta be_ extra_ confusing with all the different times on the maps you printed out, and stuff..."

"Uh-huh," I say, "and I still have to find out... Wait, what do you mean, 'different times'?"

"Different times? You know, the way you made the classroom maps all different from each other."

"Different?" I say. I pause for a moment, then run back upstairs to my room. I edge my way around Grim, grabbing my backpack off the floor, and open it up. I open the folder with the maps of the classrooms inside and look at the times printed in the top right corners.

They don't match.

No wonder I wasn't able to figure out who took the picture...! In my haste, I must have entered in the wrong hours for Irwin's and Mindy's classes. I was checking the wrong evidence the whole time!

Do you ever feel like everything might just fall into place, after all? This takes me back to square one... but at least I have new options. I sprint back down the stairs with the papers in hand.

"Hey, Billy," I say. "If you're still desperate to help me out, you'd better get ready for tomorrow-- We've got new work to do, and this time, we're solving this thing."

I start my pacing again, but this time making my plans for the new investigation.

**Author's Note:** Wow, that one was a doozy! ("doozy"? When did I start saying that...?) I hope you liked this chapter. I have to say, I didn't have a very stable plan as far as how this chapter was going to play out. I had a few ideas for it, but for the most part I just winged it. I also added a little bit of fluffiness, since I figured it had been a while since we'd seen any cuteness between Billy and Mandy. I mean, you can't have a romantic comedy without the, uh, _romance._ Anyway, thanks for reading, please review, and stick around for chapter thirteen, where the culprit is finally _revealed!!_


	13. And The Culprit Is

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy_!! And I never will!! I never will!!!

**Author's Note: **What... what's this...? Could it be...? Am I finally posting again!? Yes, I realize this has taken forever; I feel like a total hypocrite because I promised myself when I started the story that I wouldn't take any super-long breaks, but... I guess I did. Wow. I only hope that all you readers will forgive me for taking such a long time...

By the way, I think it would probably be a good idea for you to read through a couple of the chapters leading up to this one in case you need a quick refresher on what's been going on in the story.

And I hope you enjoy this chapter as well. Once again, I apologize.

* * *

_CHAPTER THIRTEEN: AND THE CULPRIT IS..._

Mindy.

Irwin.

Mindy.

Irwin.

The two names, printed last-name-first, first-name-last on a couple sheets of plain white copy paper, are all I see before me. They're shaking. They're shaking, ever so slightly, against their plain white backgrounds, like two small creatures with fragile little lives; anxiously awaiting a brutal death with every inky paper fiber standing on end.

The names are shaking because the papers are shaking. The papers are shaking because my hands are shaking. My hands are shaking because _I'm _shaking. _I'm_ shaking because the day to find the truth has finally come. I've been staring at this little classroom map all day, watching the two little names tremble under my gaze hour after hour. Now it's seventh hour, and I'm ready for some payback.

I sit there in my chair for what could be minutes, hours, or days-- I wouldn't know-- imagining everything I want to do to whoever it was who took that incriminating photo. I have been waiting all day. I don't even know what's been going on in any of my classes; I've been so focused on my revenge. All I know is that somebody's going to...

The sound of the bell pierces the stuffy last-hour air like a shard of ice through a wedge of stale cheese. I jump. Finally, finally the time is here. I'm out of the room in a flash.

Billy and I make our way to the main desk. We receive our list. We receive our cleaning supplies. We head off, not to the waiting mess in the teachers' lounge, but to the principal's office once again. Once the door is safely closed and locked, I rush to the assistant principal's computer. Just as before, it has been left carelessly on.

I search the two names on the students' files, this time careful to put in the correct details. I look to see if either of them are anywhere near the copy room at that certain time...

I don't believe it! Irwin and Mindy are both right near the copy room again! But this time, they share a class just to the right of it.

I turn to Billy, who has been occupying himself with a little, yellow stress ball and a black marker.

"Hey, Billy, let's-- What are you doing?"

"Look, Mandy," he says, holding up the smiley-face stress ball which now has a mustache and thick, black eyebrows drawn onto it. "It's Mr. Bouncy-Face!"

I exhale wearily. "C'mon, Idiot. We have work to do." I drag him and Mr. Bouncy-Face off to the crime scene to continue our investigation.

I peer into the copy room. It's exactly as we left it. I walk into the new classroom and look around. That's strange... From here, there doesn't seem to be any way to see into the copy room... How would anyone have taken a picture during class if the two rooms are separated by a solid wall?

"Hey, you!" a voice says.

I turn around quickly. Did somebody catch us...?

"Who's there?!" I yell. I find myself face to face with a little, yellow stress ball.

"Billy..."

"I'm not Billy!" he says, in a high-pitched voice. "I'm Mr. Bouncy-Face!"

"Do you want me to slap you?"

"Hey, you!" says Mr. Bouncy-Face. "Billy just told me that he has a class in this room, too!"

"Is that so?" I say. "Well, tell Billy that if he wastes my time with anymore nonsense, I'm gonna lock him in the janitor's closet for five days."

"Five days?" says Mr. Bouncy-Face. "What's he gonna eat for five days?"

"I suppose once he finishes cannibalizing his own feet, he can start in on the dangerous cleaning supplies."

"Then what?" says Mr. Bouncy-Face.

"If he survives that?" I say, trying to examine the room for a way to see into the copy room. "Maybe he'll find some nice rat poison."

"Then what?"

"After that? He'll probably be desperate for food." I look at him. "So he might just have to eat Mr. Bouncy-Face, now won't he?"

Billy looks at me with a shocked expression. "_Mandy! _How could you even _think _of something like that?!"

"You'd be surprised what horrible things people can be driven to when they're around you, Billy."

I move from desk to desk, trying to see if there are any with a clear view of the inside of the copy room. It seems I'm having no luck.

"You know, we get's ta watch TV in here, sometimes. Ya know that, Mandy?" says Billy. "But usually it's just boring stuff's like the historicky videos... plus, the cord's too short, so she got's ta keep movin' the TV away from the window..."

I look at the small, aged television sitting on its wheeled stand.

"What are you talking about? It's not near any windows," I say.

It's true. The TV is just up against the wall shared by the copy room.

"Yeah, it is!" says Billy. He pulls the TV away from its spot, revealing to my astonishment a small, square window into the copy room!

"Billy!" I say. "Why didn't you tell me about that before??"

Mr. Bouncy-Face intervenes. "Don't yell at Billy! He doesn't see the window very much, because the TV is always over there!" He points to the opposite end of the classroom, where a single wall socket is visible between the desks. "Everybody's always looking this way, anyways! It's not Billy's fault!"

"Yeah, yeah," I say. "Alright, time to get to work." I grab my classroom map and locate both Irwin's and Mindy's desks. "Billy," I say. "Do you remember where I had you stand in the copy room that other time? Go stand there again."

Billy nods vigorously. "Come on, Mr. Bouncy-Face! Let's go do our special job!"

Mr. Bouncy-Face nods dutifully, and they both make their way to the spot in the copy room. I get out my phone and sit down in Irwin's desk. I take a picture. I go to Mindy's desk and do the same. Then I look at the photos.

Irwin's desk is at completely the wrong angle. All I could catch in the photograph is what looks like the very edge of Mr. Bouncy-Face engaging in a conversation with Billy. Could it have been Mindy who took the photo? I look at the picture. It's... it's plausible! I can see Billy clearly! I can see him using Mr. Bouncy-Face as an ear-swab! The angle looks a lot like the one in the original newspaper photo-- even more so than the one taken from Dora's seat.

"Billy--," I nearly whisper from where I stand, "this... this _has _to be it. It... it matches almost perfectly...! The angles are all right, and the timing would have been perfect! Mindy _has _to be the...

Something hits me. Suddenly I feel like screaming... and I do.

"... _The mushroom lamp!!_" I yell.

"Mindy is the _mushroom lamp?!_" Billy says. "I knew it!"

"_No_, you imbecile," I say, seething. "Mindy... she... she _can't _be the culprit...! The photos don't match! They _still_ don't match!! And do you know _why??_" I'm nearly to the point of exploding with frustration. "It's because of that _stupid, stupid... hideous lamp!!_ It still doesn't show up in Mindy's photo! But it's right there in the original photo!!"

I stand there, breathing heavily. "Billy, we are _never _gonna solve this stupid thing!! _Never!!_"

Billy comes up to me quietly. "Mandy... you... you look kind of..."

"... What?" I say more quietly, trying to pull myself back together.

"I just...," he says. He slowly puts his hand out toward me, then opens his fingers to reveal a small, yellow, rubber ball. "Do you need a stress ball?" he says. I take the ball slowly, breathing deeply, and squeeze it. I feel myself start to relax a little as my hand contracts and releases against the small, yellow sphere. I close my eyes.

There is a moment of quiet as we listen to my breath come in and out. Billy looks at me.

"... Mr. Bouncy-Face says--"

My eyes snap open like window shutters on a stormy night and I slam Mr. Bouncy-Face onto the ground with full force, knocking the air out of him and flattening him almost completely.

"_HE'S DEAD NOW!!" _I scream, my face contorted with wild rage.

There's a long silence between us. Billy looks at the ground, then back up at me, aghast with horror. "M... Mandy...," he says, his voice shaking in disbelief. "You... you... k-killed Mr. Bouncy-Face...!"

I stare down at his now flattened companion, my face back to its original sullen expression. "Oh. I guess I did."

A foreboding calm descends upon him. Billy begins to breathe harder, like a small toddler who's just fallen on his face, and I wait for the storm to come. "This... wh-whole time...!" he says, horrified tears appearing in his eyes, "I just wanted to help you, but you _smashed _Mr. Bouncy-Face! You _sm-mashed him!!_"

"Billy." I say. "Calm down. Okay? It was a stupid toy. And it wasn't even yours."

But it's too late. Billy's face has already begun to screw itself up into the "angry tears" position. "Is that what you want to _do, _Mandy? _Smash _things?! Because _that's _what you _do!_" he wails. "Every time I try's ta help, you just _throw's _me to the _floor! You've been smashing me all along!!!_"

"Oh, for crying out loud..."

"_YOOOOUUU!!" _he jabs a grubby, accusing finger at me. "_YOOOUU... are a MONSTERRR!!_"

Okay, I don't know if you knew this already, but Billy is prone to having these gigantic mood swings sometimes. Honestly, I don't know _what _sets him off. One minute he'll be his happy-go-lucky self, and then the next he'll be screaming like some crazed, twelve-year-old infant. I never know what's going to get to him next, but it's always something completely unexpected.

Billy gathers up Mr. Bouncy-Face's flattened remains and stalks out of the room, stopping only to turn around and give me one more incredulous look of disgust. I sigh. Great. Now I have no more subject for my photos. I walk back into the copy room and place a tall classroom projector in Billy's original spot. I try one more photo from each suspect's desk. Still nothing.

Mentally exhausted and not quite knowing what else to do, I sit down in Irwin's chair and glare at the wall. Now _everybody's _mad at me, and I've still made no progress. I glare at the stupid classroom wall, with all its stupid classroom wall decorations. I glare at a red and yellow poster that reads, "Always remember to exercise that special body part: your _brain._" I glare at a picture of several badly-drawn children, who, despite being all different races (and one of them being in a wheelchair), all seem to have the same face. I glare at a picture of a not-so-famous celebrity holding a gigantic pile of books and enthusiastically instructing me to "Read, read, read!" I glare at the stupid, ugly mushroom lamp. I glare at...

... The mushroom lamp...?

... The... the _mushroom lamp...!_

I... I see it... reflected into a mirror on the wall.

I feel my hands begin to do that shaking thing again. I pick up the newspaper. I look at the photo. They're exactly the same. But... How is the mirror reflecting it from this angle...? I turn around, looking or a source of the image.

On the opposite wall, I see the exact same image, but flipped, caught by perfect chance in another mirror. I look at the window again. I can't see any of the projector. But when I look at the mirroers, I can see it perfectly fine. Including the mushroom lamp.

I get up and move to another desk. I can't see it in the mirror anymore. I move to Mindy's desk. The mirror reflects nothing but a poster on the opposite wall. I move back to Irwin's desk. Once again, a near-perfect replica of the original photo, save for the fact that the two unsuspecting subjects are being replaced by a classroom projector, is cast onto the surface of the glass.

I once had a math teacher who secretly wanted to be a science teacher. He would always get distracted in the middle of this lessons, putting down his pen and his calculator because he'd just thought of something he wanted to tell us about molecules. Once, he'd gotten so caught up in one of his distracted rants about light that he actually unscrewed part of the projector to show us how it worked. He showed us how, even though the actual image was on the lit platform, it bounced off the two mirrors inside and was cast onto the wall from a completely different angle. He had found it fascinating, but most of the students had only obliged to let him rant because it meant that they didn't have to do any math. I had almost forgotten about that day, but now it has suddenly been brought back to my attention. As I stand in this room, I realize that it's just like one big, giant projector.

And Irwin is the only one to whom its advantages are available.

It all makes perfect sense. On the day that Billy and I were in the copy room, the teacher must have been putting on a history movie for the class. She had moved the TV away from the window, and the whole class had turned their attention to it, so that none of them would have seen us. Irwin had probably been daydreaming, staring at the wall next to him. In his boredom, he had by chance witnessed Billy's and my... mistake, and he probably would have had just enough time to pull his phone out of his pocket and press the buttons.

I pull out my phone, just to be sure. I hold it up. I press the little, silver buttons. The picture takes, small and dark and grainy and perfect. Now I know. It was Irwin all along.

That dirty little liar.

**Author's Note:** And there you have it. It was him all along! Was it what you expected, or did you think it was someone totally different? Once again, I apologize for taking so long in putting this up. Thank you so much for your patience.


	14. Rewriting Reality

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy. _So there.

**Author's Note: **Alright, first of all, I know I've been gone a long time once again, so I apologize. I've been busy with ACT testing and PSAE testing, and other school things. I was also in an opera, and I've been working on several other projects. Still, I apologize for not posting since January. Sorry for the fail. Also, if you have ANY problem whatsoever with any of the following content, please see the author's note at the END of the story, after you've read the story. Thank you, and please enjoy.

* * *

_CHAPTER FOURTEEN: REWRITING REALITY_

Alright. Close your eyes right now and picture one of your friends. Just picture one; it doesn't matter who. Picture your life together so far. The ups. The downs. Everything.

I make my way down the middle of the sidewalk. I feel the semi-warmth of the sunlight hitting my shoulders, my chest, and my cheekbones. I hear the sound of the light breeze rustling the tree tops; I feel it toying idly with my hair.

Are you still picturing that friend? Good. Forget about him or her for a second. Now I want you to think of your most embarrassing moment. But don't just think of it-- _remember_ it. Remember it like it was yesterday, or, better yet, like it was today. Feel the sting. Relive the horrible, sinking feeling. Go on. I know you don't want to, but do it anyway. Make yourself uncomfortable. Live that moment. Feel it like you're _drowning _in it.

I walk lightly up the driveway, feeling my ankles go from warm to cool to warm again as I step in and out of the shadows of the tree leaves. I'm finally bathed in cool shadow as I step onto the porch. The smell of spring flowers and fresh-cut grass wafts through the air on the mischievous breeze from a recently tended garden.

Are you still picturing that moment? Good. Now picture your friend again. Except, this time, imagine that the embarrassing moment could have been prevented if it weren't for your friend. Better yet, imagine that your friend not only caused that horrible experience, but _wanted _it to happen. He or she did it to you on purpose. How does that make you feel? Angry? _Really _angry?

Angry enough to show up at your friend's house on a lovely spring day and beat him to death with his own cell phone?

I hear the porch creak almost musically as I make my way to the welcome mat. I stroke back some of my slightly wind-blown hair and ring the door bell. I clasp my hands together for a moment, warming them up from the cool, early spring air.

I'm going to make it painful.

I hear the soft, padded sound of Irwin's socks on the thick carpet. I see the screen door jiggle, then move. Irwin's face is partly visible through the sun-tinted glass of the front door.

When he sees my face, his expression changes from welcoming to the sullen indignity from the lunch table.

"Oh. Mandy," he says stiffly, opening the door. "Here to blame me for another one of your problems, yo?"

I keep my face expressionless, keep my eyes locked on his. "As a matter of fact," I say, "I am."

I step into his living room without waiting to be invited.

"What is it this time, Mandy?" he says. "Did I lose your homework? Did I hurt one of your friends, yo?"

"No," I reply. "Just the same-old-same-old."

He sighs. "How many times to I have to tell you, yo? I didn't do it!"

"You sure?" I say. I open the small bag I brought with me. I take out a copy of the school newspaper and my cell phone. "Because I think you might want to take a look at this."

I hold out the newspaper.

"So what?" he says. "I already told you I didn't take it, yo!"

"Really?" I say. I hold out my phone as well, showing him the evidence clearly. He looks at it.

"What is this?" he says, raising an eyebrow.

"It's a picture I took from your desk," I say. "Nice, isn't it? Looks a lot like the one in the school paper."

I catch a hint of nervousness in his eyes for a split second. Then it's gone.

"Kind of," he says. "So, what?"

"_So,"_ I say, " I've been doing a little investigation. I know it was you, Irwin. All the evidence points at it. And now it's time to teach you a lesson."

He backs toward his couch, his eyes now uneasy and shifty. "W-wait, yo!...! Y-y-you don't know for _sure _it was me..."

I start to walk slowly toward him. "The classroom, Irwin. It was your class."

He continues backward. "B-b-but it might not have been--"

"The desk," I say, coming closer and closer. "It could only have been yours."

"But--But I just didn't--"

"You had all the motives in the world," I say, backing him onto his plastic-covered couch."

"But it just--"

"The _mushroom lamp, _Irwin," I say, my eyes flashing. "The... _mushroom lamp."_

He stares at the floor. He knows he's lost.

"Okay, fine," he says, "I _did _do it. I was mad, okay?"

"So you decided to try and take me down?"

"Hey!" he says. He doesn't look me in the eye. I can tell he's hoping I won't notice his trembling lip. "I had good reason, yo! I mean, you've never let me touch you, and you've never let me date you, and... and even when we've fought, you've never let me talk things out with you! Even when it was your fault!" His hands ball into fists for a moment before he relaxes. "To see you get so close to Billy... To see you let him kiss you like that, even if it was just a one-time thing... and then not hurt him or yell at him or... or put him down afterward or _anything_, yo... It made me so... _mad!_ I just... I lost control!"

I narrow my eyes. He's doing it again. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Irwin Sympathy Show, in which a dewy-eyed nerd-boy will attempt to guilt-trip you into submission with a glossed-up sob story. He sighs dramatically.

"If you had just given me a chance, Mandy! If you had just let me get close to you, just once, things could have turned out differently, yo! None of this would have happened if you had just though about _my_ feelings!"

I stare at him incredulously. "You conniving little wench."

Suddenly the fear returns to his eyes as I move forward. He backs further onto the couch, and I hear the plastic squeak under his sweaty palms.

"You're just a whiny little kid who can't get his way," I say. "You wanted to play house, but I wouldn't be the mommy, so you stripped off my clothes, locked me in the doll house, and took off the roof so that everyone could point and laugh. Is that all I am to you, Irwin? Some doll you can just break when I don't play games your way?"

I see him cringe on the plastic cushions. "M-mandy," he says. "Please! I-I love you!"

"No," I say. "You don't love me, Irwin. I'm just some shiny toy that you want but can't have."

The warm sun beams in through the window. The birds sing softly outside. I see the terror in his eyes.

"Mandy...! Please! I'm sorry, okay?! L-leave me alone, yo!"

"But it's such a beautiful spring day," I say. "How about I stay here and play?"

A light breeze hits the sunlit window. An elderly couple walks by with their dogs. Somebody's lawnmower hums in the distance. Flower petals drift lazily from the crabapple trees in a neighbor's yard. Nobody hears the screaming.

---

I get to school the next day feeling... _well... _less than satisfied. I mean, Irwin is taken care of. He's here as well, but he's telling everyone that the broken nose is from some horrible encounter with an escaped convict (whom he brutally defeated, of course.). I suppose you could say I feel better now that I've gotten back at him, but this whole business is still far from over. The rumors are still spreading like fungus, and I have no idea how I'm supposed to clear things up again.

I could just make Irwin tell everyone it was all a hoax, but who would believe him? Even if he _was _the one who started the whole thing, no one actually _knows_ he started it, and so no one would even believe him if he admitted to his lie. After all, once people start believing something bad about someone, it's almost impossible to convince them otherwise on the subject. It's just not human nature to admit you're wrong.

When I sit down at our usual lunch table, Irwin is gone and Billy is angry.

"Umm... Billy? " I say. "What's wrong with you?"

"I'm mourning the lots of my friend," he says, pouting in my direction.

"Mourning the what?"

He holds out the broken stress ball from yesterday.

"Lots," he says, "because you broke Mr. Bouncy-Face into _lots_ of pieces."

"You can't possibly still be mad about this."

"I can and I am," he says.

"It was a _stress ball,_" I say.

Billy looks at me suddenly with furious tears in his eyes. "_He _was a stress ball! _He!!"_

I'm beginning to lose patience with my life. "_He_ was a cheap toy that you only had for ten minutes!"

"They were the greatest ten minutes this world has ever seen, and you _stole them from me!_"

"How are you still mad about this?!" I yell.

"Because!" he says. "Every time I find something I like, you ruin's it! You _ruin's _it with your big, angry fists and your dumb name-calling and your _stupid, enormous eyebrows!!_"

"I don't ruin your fun!"

"Yes you do! You smash my fun like you smashed Mr. Bouncy-Face! You're like some big, purple smashing monster who smashes stuff!!"

"What are you talking about?"

"When I wanted to go with Irwin to see the movie about the two giraffes who fell in love, you wouldn't let me because you said I had to do your chores!" he says. "When I tried to dress up as Sassy Cat for Halloween, you told me that you didn't want's ta see me near you dressed like that, so you put my costume through the weed whacker!"

"That's only two examples, Billy."

He hesitates. "... I can't think of any more! But I know there's some! You never let me do what I want, Mandy!"

"Billy, we're not going to talk about this right now."

"See?!" he says. "You won't even listen to me!"

"What could you possibly have to say besides your usual idiotic babbling?" I snap.

"I wanna talk about the kiss, Mandy!" he yells.

I tense up. "Keep it down! We don't need the whole world to hear!"

"What's the point?" he shouts. Several nearby students look our way. "They all know! Everybody knows! Everybody saw the newspaper!"

I cringe. Here it comes. Sometimes Billy has a way of saying the things nobody else seems to want to say. Sometimes it's a stupid joke, sometimes it's a story about a disgusting bodily function, and sometimes it's an embarrassing moment you really didn't want to remember. But no matter what it is, he'll bring it up at the worst possible time.

"Billy..., " I say, "people are watching, idiot! Keep it down!"

"Why?" he shouts even louder. Everybody already knows what happened!" He now has the attention of almost the entire lunchroom. "_We kissed!_" he shouts. "We kissed, okay?? And _guess what??_ _Everybody saw!!_"

I look down at my plate of not-quite-homestyle chicken noodle casserole. I want to punch him out so badly, but I know that no matter how many times I hit him, it's not going to undo anything. If anything, it'll just get people talking even more.

"Why can't's I say anything about it, Mandy?" he goes on. "Why're ya trying ta keep it down if everybody already knows?! Who are you trying to hide it from?"

"Billy, sit down," I murmur. "You're making a fool of yourself."

"_You're_ making a fool of _your_self!" he yells. "That's why everybody keeps laughing at you! You think's you're the big, fancy queen of everything who can make everybody do what _you_ want, but everybody _knows_ that you can't control anything anymore!"

"Hey, _shut up!_" I yell. "You don't know anything, Billy!" I look at the sea of eyes. "Nobody knows anything! You all think you know, but you _don't!!_ So _shut up, all of you!!_"

I hear my voice echo against the cold walls of the cafeteria, and I realize that I was just screaming. For a moment, there's dead silence. Then, to my horror, I see some of them start to smile. I watch as they start to whisper in each other's ears and stifle fits of laughter. Something in me starts to deflate, then shrivel like a worn-out balloon. I'm the butt of the joke. No matter what I do or what I say, I'm the butt of everyone's sick joke.

I get up, grabbing my things. I can't believe I ever came back to school. I stalk out of the cafeteria and down the halls. What am I supposed to do in this place? I can't trust anybody anymore. Nobody respects me. Nobody even _fears_ me. I'm just a joke... I'm just a sick joke...

Somebody touches my arm. I jump, then whirl around. It's her again.

"Dora?!" I say. "What do _you_ want?"

She just smiles. "Feeling a little weighed-down, BFF?"

I grimace. "Don't call me that. Why would you care, anyway?"

She puts an arm around my shoulder. "Mandy, I think I might just be able to help you out of this mess."

I pause." ...Why?"

"'Why' what?"

"Why would you want to help me out? I thought the rumors were good for business."

"They were," she sighs, "but as of recently, our newspaper sales have been going down. Now that people know everything there is to know and then some, they don't want to find out any more. What's worse, there's nothing else to write about, and I'm afraid we're all getting terribly bored."

"So?"I say.

"So, I'm thinking an all-new series," she says, smiling. "We could call it _Mandy: What _Really_ Happened_."

I hesitate again. I don't know if I can trust her, but at this point I can't afford to pass up any opportunities. "... I'm listening," I say finally.

"We can tell the story," she says. "The _real_ story. At least... more or less. We'll have to dress things up a bit, but for the most part, it'll be true."

I look at her. "And what makes you think it'll change anyone's mind?"

She just laughs. "Mandy, if there's one thing you and I both know, it's that people are stupid. You know that pop star Lily Harrison?"

I think. "Kind of."

"You know how everyone started hating her because she dumped her husband for a rap star, and then started cheating on him with someone twice her age?"

"Not really."

She looks at me indignantly. "Well, they did. We all did. But then something happened. Do you remember what it was?"

She looks at me expectantly, but before I have the chance to tell her I have no idea what she's talking about, she answers for me.

"That's right-- she had a _baby_. Turns out, she was pregnant with her ex-husband's baby the whole time. So he got back together with her, and she promised to change her ways and become a good mother for her new daughter. Suddenly, everyone was rooting for Lily Harrison! It was like we'd all forgotten about the horrible things she did to all those guys!"

"So... you're saying I should have a baby? I say skeptically.

"Tch. _No_." She crosses her arms. "I'm saying that you're not just famous, Mandy, you're _infamous_. So what you need is a good publicity stunt to make people start rooting for you again!"

I think for a minute. It's actually not that bad of an idea.

"Well," I say. "What exactly do you have in mind?"

She laughs again. "Just meet me after school in room 217 tomorrow, Mandy. And bring Billy, too. I'll explain it all then."

---

Billy and I arrive at the classroom at 3:35, deciding to put off our janitorial juties until later. The room is empty, except for four students gathered around a group of desks which have been pushed together to form a table. Dora sits at the head of the makeshift table, but gets up to greet us.

"Mandy! Billy!" she says with mostly fake congeniality. "It's good to see you. Please, let me introduce you to the _Daily Blurb_'s top writing staff."

I look at the other people in the room. Sitting around the table are Pudd'n, Nergal Jr., and one nerd girl I don't recognize. Looks like the staff of the school newspaper is made up of mostly losers.

"Alright," I say. "You've got everyone here. Now, what are you planning on doing?"

Dora sits back down. "I got all our best writers together and told them to get to work. I told you I'd get you a publicity stunt, and I did. Each one of us has come up with our own story for you and Billy. We are going to brief you on each one, and you two can choose which one you think is most believable. Okay?"

"What are we going to do with it?" I ask.

She grins. "We'll take their raw story ideas and edit them into scripts so you can can act them out."

"Wait... what?" I say.

"You remember when you and your friends got called up to do that skit for the guest speaker?" she says. "It'll be just like that, only this time you won't mess it up. And it'll be so good that everyone will think it's true!"

"You've gotta be kidding me."

"I'm _not_," she says. "You'll do it in the middle of school. No one will even suspect that it was all staged!"

"This is _ridiculous!_" I say. "I don't act! And everyone knows _Billy_ can't do it!"

She taps her fingers on the desk impatiently. "You have to do it. It's your only option left, and your reputation is at stake here!"

I sigh. "Fine," I say, "but these had better have some pretty believable dialogue."

"Good," she says. "Let's start with you, Pudd'n."

Pudd'n hasn't changed much personality-wise since fifth grade. Physically, though, he's almost unrecognizable. He's one of those unfortunate boys who look as if puberty sneaked up on him in the middle of the night and beat him half to death until his face and body were entirely disfigured. He has long, skinny legs; around, boyish face; and the beginnings of what will be an explosion of facial hair in a few years.

He clears his throat and begins to speak in his not-quite-high, not-quite-low voice. "Um, my story starts with Billy and Mandy walking into the lunchroom. Its working title is 'Mandy's True Love'."

He begins to read.

_Mandy walked into the lunchroom with Billy._

_"Oh, Billy," she said, " I just don't know what to do! Everyone keeps telling all these rumors about me! I just don't feel like I can go on! "_

_Billy looked at her with his strong, dependable gaze. "Don't be silly, Mandy," he said to her. "You _can_ be strong. I know you can."_

_"But...," she said, her eyes filled with sadness, pain, and despair, "no matter where I turn, everyone is saying something different! I-I just don't know what to do! The other day, one of my girlfriends told me I would never be respected again... Do you really think that's true, Billy? That nobody respects me?"_

_She sniffed. Billy saw that she was starting to cry. He lifted his hand to her face, brushing the warm, wet tears from her blushing cheeks._

_"Mandy...," he said, "I respect you. And more than that, I love you. And nothing and nobody will change that as long as we live."_

_He embraced her then, and slowly, their lips came closer and closer to each other. They gazed at each other for one crystal moment before finally coming together in a tender kiss._

I look at him. "Okay, _what?_"

He frowns. "You don't like it?"

"I wouldn't say any of that! It wasn't like me at all! What's more, you made Billy too smart, and there is_ no_ way I am _ever_ going to cry _or_ kiss in front of two hundred people!"

Pudd'n looks down. "Fine, then, let's hear Junior's."

Nergal Jr. picks up his story. Ever since fifth grade ended, Junior has been trying to find some sort of identity for himself. It seems like he's trying to fit into a new clique every couple of months. Lately, he's been dressing himself up as what seems to be an attempt at goth or emo, or some other sort of dark, alternative fashion. He mostly just looks like some poser with converse sneakers and a duct tape wrist band with "Pain" written on it in black marker.

He looks at us. "My story is called 'The Death Within', and it takes place in the school library. He begins reading.

_Mandy walked into the library wearing a black dress, black combat boots, and a black hoodie. She also had black eyeliner, and her hair was dyed black, and she was wearing a black corset with red laces in it. She also had black ripped tights, and a red and silver belt, and she--"_

"Umm," I say, "Not that I'm not completely enamored with gothic apparel, but can we please move on to the actual story?"

He sighs. "Fine. Jeez..." He continues.

_She walked up to a shelf to see if they had any books about death or pain. Just then, Billy came up._

_"Hey there, idiot," she said. "Are you here to ruin my day already?"_

_He shook his head. "Just to make you happy, Mandy!"_

_She looked at her feet. "How can I be happy when my life is the epitome of all pain and suffering?" she said._

_"Uh... what do you mean, Mandy?"_

_"Billy... everyone keeps talking about me. They... they call me every name imaginable. They insult me. I even get phone calls about it. No matter where I turn, there's something to remind me about the torture that is my very existence. It's enough to make me... to make me..."_

_"Make you what?" Billy asked._

_Mandy hesitated, then pulled up her left sleeve to reveal several cuts on her arm._

"_What?!_" I say. "I wouldn't slit my wrists over this! And I'm not doing it just for the sake of your stupid skit!"

"You don't have to actually cut yourself!" Junior explains. "You can just draw the lines on with red markers, or something!"

"No one's gonna believe that," Pudd'n says. "Somebody's gonna have to see the fake cuts at some point, and then nobody will be fooled anymore!"

"And if anybody finds out you were faking the cuts on her wrist, they could seriously be offended," the nerd girl says. "It's a touchy subject. They'll think you're trying to make fun of self-mutilation, and people will get mad at you, and then they'll blame the whole newspaper staff for being politically incorrect. We're trying to _prevent _scandals, remember? Not cause a bigger one."

Junior sighs. "Okay, we can edit that part out. Anyway, lemme keep reading! It gets good!"

_Mandy looked at Billy. "Now do you see? This is driving me insane. And you're not helping. All you do is make things worse with your idiocy. So I can't associate with you anymore."_

_She turned away._

_"What do you mean, Mandy?" Billy said._

_"I can't be with you anymore, Billy," she said. "You're... ruining my life. That's why... I've decided to get together with Grim."_

"Grim?!" I say. "Where does HE fit into this?"

"What?" Junior says. "I just think that Mandy and Grim make a more believable pair than Mandy and Billy."

"He's so much older than me!"

"Well, that won't _matter_ when you become queen of the underworld!"

"What does this have to do with the rumors, Nergal Jr.?" Dora asks.

"Um...," he says, "l... I guess I got carried away."

Dora turns to the nerdy-looking girl. "What's your story called, Amelia?"

She smiles. "Mine is called 'To Mend Her Heart', and it takes place in the computer lab."

_It was a day like any other at Endsville Middle School. Mary Sue was just sitting down in the computer lab when she saw the love of her life, Jason, walking down the hallway. She knew that she had wanted to go out with him since sixth grade, but for some reason, she just couldn't get up the nerve to--_

"Okay, what does this have to do with me and Billy?" I interrupt.

"... I'm getting there," she says.

"Really? 'Cause right now it seems to me that your story is mostly going to be about Mary Sue."

"Well, it's set in Endsville Middle School," she says, "And you and Billy get mentioned lots of times!"

"Yeah," Junior says, "They get _mentioned_. But the story is supposed to be _about_ them."

"This is stupid," I say. "None of these stories are realistic at all!"

"Haven't you ever heard of creative license?" Pudd'n says.

I roll my eyes. "There's no _time_ for creative license! We're trying to come up with a believable story that we can act out! Where are we supposed to fit any of your ideas in with our actual lives?"

Dora clears her throat. "You're forgetting about _my_ story."

"Okay," I say. "This had better be good."

Dora stands up. "My story is set in the lunchroom. It's called 'I Believe You'."

_Mandy and Billy sat down at the table. Mandy sighed tiredly._

_"Billy, this is getting way out of hand," she said._

_"What is?"_

_"Everything," she said. "Everyone keeps telling all these rumors about me."_

_"So?"_

_"So," she said, "most of them aren't even true. I _know_ they aren't true. But... no matter what I do, everyone keeps using it against me. I can't win."_

_Billy took a bite of his food. "Well, if you know they aren't true, and I know they aren't true, what's the problem?"_

_"I just wish it would all stop," she said. "I want people to stop talking about me. How would you feel if everyone in the whole school hated you for something you didn't really do?"_

_"Gosh, I don't know, Mandy...," he said._

_"No, you don't," she said. "Nobody ever will. I just want somebody to believe me..." She looked down at her hands._

_"Mandy... you know I believe you, don't you?"_

_She looked at him. "Yeah, but..."_

_"Mandy," he said, "even if other people say things about you, I'll always know the truth. And I'll always be here for you, even when no one else is. Please don't be sad."_

_"But... what am I supposed to do?" she said._

_He took her hand. "I promise I'll try to make people believe. I'll try my very best!"_

_She sighed. "Okay..."_

_"Just trust me, Mandy."_

_He pulled her into a warm hug, and finally kissed her softly._

"Hey," I say. "what did I say about that kissing thing?"

"Look," says Dora. "I know it's not very natural for you, but you have to make people root for you. And if you want that, then a heartfelt kiss is usually the best way to go."

"But Mandy doesn't got's no heart," Billy says." She's just a mean meanie!"

"Exactly," says Dora. "That's why we have to make people think she _isn't_ a mean meanie. It's our job to make her seem like a misunderstood underdog so that people will feel sorry for her and want to _like_ her."

"Still," I say. "We weren't quite ourselves in that story. We were just generic characters."

"Well, it was the best I could do, okay? I had to write it really fast before everyone completely antagonized you! Would you rather use one of the other stories?"

I groan. "I guess if this is really the best you can do... we'll take it."

She grins. "Great! I'll just put it all in script format, and then you can start rehearsing it!" she giggles. "This is so exciting! I've never directed a play before!"

I look at Billy. "Well... ready to start rehearsing?" I groan.

He sticks his tongue out at me. "I'm not doing _anything_ with you! You're not my friend!"

I feel like banging my head against a wall. I cannot _believe_ I agreed to do this.

**Author's Note:** Okay, that was chapter fourteen. Now, for some more disclaimers. **PLEASE READ THE FOLLOWING SENTENCES; THEY'RE IMPORTANT.** Okay, clearly, I have referenced several story types in this chapter that are common to . PLEASE NOTE that I DO NOT have any problem with any of these types of stories, including the GrimXMandy fandom, stories with self-mutilation and gothic characteristics, fluffy romance stories, and stories with OCs. I am able to enjoy all of these, as long as they are done well and are true to the characters. I am not trying to criticize any of these types of stories, I am just trying to criticize the ones that are done badly or in the wrong context, and also am trying to portray what Mandy would think if she actually were to read any of these stories, good and bad.

By the way, she'd probably hate The Billy Incident, too, if she ever laid eyes on it.


End file.
